Holmes The Younger - A Study In Pink
by Watson'sGirl
Summary: When John Watson and his daughter Lucy begin their life with a certain consulting detective and his son they never imagined just how much their lives would change. With danger lurking around every corner, what extremes will Sherlock and John reach to keep their loved ones safe. Sherlock/John friendship OC/OC. Rated T for later chapters, for language, violence and some sexual scenes
1. Chapter 1

_**This is my first Sherlock OC fan fic - so be nice please. Rather than  
do a Sherlock/OC or a John/OC, I thought it would be interesting to do  
a OC/OC relationship within the real storyline.**_

_**OC Characters**_

_**Lucy Watson - the sixteen year old daughter of John Watson, from a previous  
relationship in university. Lucy is slightly bigger than average size,  
classes herself as how healthy girls should look, with full, curvy hips  
and waist. She has deep green eyes with waist length tightly curled  
natural blond hair. Since she doesn't go to college or have a job, she  
gets money by doing gigs at pubs and bars - I've decided to compare her  
voice Laura Osnes's (you should listen to her, she is an amazing  
Broadway actress)**_

Charles Holmes - the seventeen year old son of Sherlock Holmes. He is  
tall and slim like Sherlock, with a mop of shaggy ginger curls and  
piercing blue eyes. He is very much a younger version of Holmes, but is  
slightly more reserved about his intelligence, he is far more out going  
than Sherlock. Since he helps Sherlock on his cases he doesn't go to  
school nor does he have a job.

Alex Westerson - Alex is sixteen years old and has a job at Scotland  
Yard as Lestrade's kind of assistant (I know that you probably cannot  
have this job at sixteen but for the sake of the story, you can). He is  
short and of average build, with jet black hair and dark brown eyes, he  
is a massive flirt and is constantly and relentlessly attempting to  
flirt with Lucy, to the point of practically stalking her.

**I in no way shape or form own Sherlock or the actors portraying the roles, I only own the OC  
characters. The storyline belongs to the BBC and it's creators Mark  
Gatiss and Steven Moffat.**_****_

Enjoy!

Chapter One

**JOHN**

"I don't really remember what happened before it all went dark.  
I think I was in the truck being transported back to the base camp set  
up in one of the small Afghanistan villages. All I can remember was a  
loud noise, some screech of metal on metal, bullets ricocheted everywhere and  
then nothing." Reliving my traumatic experience, caused a lump to stick  
in my throat that didn't seem to disappear no matter how hard I tried.  
I cleared my throat and gingerly looked at the woman sitting across  
from me, Ella, my therapist was subtly jotting down notes. I felt like  
I was a guinea pig in an experiment.

"I woke up in this beeping place. I wasn't sure where I was because I  
couldn't seem to open my eyes. Silly, isn't it?" I scoffed trying to  
make light of the situation. Ella just looked at my, a little surprised  
by my comment. "Is It? How is it silly John?" She asked whilst leaning  
forward to balance her arm on her knee as her other hand came to rest  
under her chin. I closed my eyes, trying to compose myself. "I could definitely feel the blanket on top of me and the  
beep-beep-beep beside me but I couldn't open my eyes or talk or move. I  
remember that people would come to poke at me every now and then and I  
would always try to talk to them."

My voice broke slightly, feeling a reassuring squeeze on my forearm, I  
drew a shaky breath as I turned my head, still looking at the floor. The  
teenage girl sitting next to me, my daughter Lucy, was sitting closely  
next to me and had her arm linked through mine. I replayed her gesture  
with an attempted smile, which must have come out as a grimace as I saw  
her deep emerald eyes change ever so subtly from concerned to  
apologetic.

"John," my attention was pulled back to Ella who was now reclining  
back in her leather chair with her fingers inter linked on her lap.  
"John, you're a soldier. It's going to take some for you to get used to  
living a normal life". I returned my gaze back over to Lucy whose eyes  
were slowly filling up as she sees a flicker of fear pass over my face.  
"She's right, dad. I know it will be tough, but we both know that you  
can do it." she leaned in and gave me a comforting peck on my temple  
which had become glazed with a thin layer of sweat. It was my turn to  
tear up now. God she is so like her mother, god rest her soul.

"You haven't written a thing in your blog. It will help you John. Writing  
down everything that happens to you will relieve some of the pressure"  
Ella's voice was just background noise to me now, as a pulled on my  
jacket and slowly stood with the aid of Lucy, who held on to me as if I  
was going to collapse at any moment. It wouldn't be the first time.  
Giving Ella a quick nod and a short smile, "Nothing happens to me." I  
turned and made for the door, pulling Lucy with me. I didn't look back  
as the door closed with a loud click behind us.

****

Please, please let me know what you think with a lovely review or a  
follow or a favourite, I'd really appreciate it saying as this is my  
first attempt at fan fiction.

-Watson'sGirl-


	2. Chapter 2

Reminder - I in now way shape or form own Sherlock or the actors portraying the roles, I only own the OC characters. The storyline belongs to the BBC and it' creators Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat.

In this chapter there's some slight John and Lucy fluff, but it's cute. You also find out Lucy's background, and about her mother.

Special thanks to _Luinwen-2013 _and _MrsCumberbatch_ for reading, your lovely reviews and just being awesome!

Enjoy!

Chapter Two

JOHN

Someone is holding my hand and reading me stories. They're seven chapters into Harry Potter and The Chamber Of Secrets now. I would tell them that I've already read them but I couldn't. They would hold my hand sometimes and just sit with me so it was just me, them and the beep-beep-beep, they would sometimes sing me soft lullabies. I think it's Lucy. My brave, brave Lucy. She was crying that day. I wanted to make her happy and not sad but something was definitely wrong with my arms because I wasn't able hug her, I couldn't even comfort my own daughter. Truth be told, I was scared. I was scared that I would be able to hold her again, that I would not be able to wrap my arms around her and shelter her from the pain. I would tell her, when I am able to, that I wanted to help. Some people came into the room while Lucy was crying, saying that "she should leave", that "she shouldn't be here for this" but I didn't recognise the voices and I didn't want Lucy to go. I was scared. I didn't want to be alone, I needed her. She cried even louder, said "No, he's still there." I felt my heart shatter and splinter around my body and I wanted to jump up and shout "Of course I am, where would I have gone?" but by then, everyone had left. Everyone except Lucy. My Lucy.

I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes closed, dragging myself out of my memories. Feeling my eyes begin burn, I hesitantly opened them, making out a watery outline of Lucy. "Dad, what's wrong? Are you okay?" there was a sense of panic in her voice as her hands came to rest on face, holding it protectively wit her long fingers. "I'm fine, Lucy." I managed to whisper, blinking away salty tears. "Honest." I placed my free hand on top of hers and gave a weak smile. "I hate seeing you like this dad, I wish I could help somehow." The look on her face brought back my tears, it was a look of pure sorrow and guilt. Giving her palm a quick kiss, I clasped our hands together as we walked slowly through Hyde Park, her head falling to rest on my shoulder. "Lucy, darling, you've done nothing wrong. In fact I don't think you've done a single bad thing in your entire life. You were there for me when I needed you the most, I missed most of your childhood and so did you. I missed your first show, I missed you getting your GCSE results." There was no stopping the tears now. "And for that I am sorry. I am so, so sorry." Nothing more was said, I don't think anything else could be said at this point, she just looked at me, with a look of admiration on her face. I took this time to cherish how much she looked like her mother.

I met Christine Horne when I was young and in university, I was studying for my doctorate, and she wanted to be an actress, which she deserved, I mean she was fantastic. I remember for on our second anniversary, she was playing Juliet in a production of Romeo And Juliet at the Globe Theatre, I decided to go and see it in an attempt to surprise her, I definitely surprised her when I went back stage with flower, crying. At first she thought something was wrong when I told her it was her fault, but once I explained that it was her fault that she was such an amazing actress that he could reduce a grown man to tears in public. Once we both graduated university we moved in together, we bought a small two bedroom flat in the centre of London, and things were going great. Things were still great even when three years late we hit a little bump. A little bump in the shape of Lucy. When Christine told me I was ecstatic, we'd talked about what our future would be like, would we get married, have children? Even though we hoped to be married before we had children, we were buzzing with excitement. As the months passed, our excitement grew, we had everything ready for our new arrival, we knew we were expecting a girl so we had decorated the second bedroom a typical pale pink, with soft white clouds painted on top, in the corner there was a white wooden crib with a musical mobile dangling above. We couldn't wait for our daughter to arrive, but when the time came, panic set in. We had no idea what we were doing, we were first time parents and we were terrified of failing. But when we bought Lucy home, and settled her into her new crib, we relaxed, we could do this. Through Lucy's childhood we were good parents, in fact we were bloody fantastic parents, I was the typical protective father of his only daughter while Christine usually just laughed and told me to relax, but I never could, she was my best friend.

I had been training for the army for a while now and when the time came for me to go to Afghanistan, Lucy was twelve, she was growing up around me and she would continue to grow when I wasn't there to protect her. And I broke my heart, it really did. The goodbye at the airport was the hardest, the waiting area was full of couples and families saying their goodbyes, but I wasn't paying attention to them, I was to busy trying to comfort the screaming little girl I was cradling on my hip with her head buried deep in my neck, her heavy salty tears staining my uniform. "Don't leave me daddy!" I tried my best to control myself, but I couldn't, I broke down sobbing equally as hard. "I will never leave you Lucy. Never ever." I cooed in her ear as I gently rocked her back and forth. "Promise you'll come back!" Hearing my twelve year old daughter's plea hit me hard, could I really do this? When the time came for me to get on the plane, the small girl was relentless in letting me go, I took the strength of both my mother and my father to pry the sobbing child's chubby arms from their vice like grip around my neck. All what was left to do was to say goodbye to Christine, the mother of my child, my lover, my everything, as we embraced and shared a last kiss, she looked me square in the eye and warned me "Don't you even think about breaking that promise." And then I was gone. That was the last time I ever saw or spoke to Christine for eighteen months later I received a message calling me to the general's office, I though nothing of it until I got there and saw the expression on his face. This was a man who had the same stern look on his face twenty-four-seven, but now his face was sympathetic. I numbly read the letter that was handed to me, as I read the letter I couldn't take it in. I thought it had to be someone's idea of a sick joke, they were trying to tell me that Christine, my Christine, was dead.

I still refused to believe it until I look of sympathy remained on the generals face remained as he explained that there had been a fire in our flat, an arson attack, and that Christine had been trapped. I guess I should have been grateful that Lucy was a school at the time and was perfectly safe. And alone. Lucy was all alone and her daddy wasn't there to save her. I was set to be on the next flight back to London, and was travelling back to the base camp, when we were attacked. They came from nowhere, four jeeps full of enemy soldiers shooting at us and throwing grenades in our path, I remember feeling the heat flash across my face and a pain explode through my shoulder, the truck was filled with smoke and amongst the scraping of metal and metallic pinging of bullets I could hear the agonizing screams of the other soldiers in the truck. Then darkness.

It was nine months before I woke up from my coma, and Lucy was there holding my hand. It had been over two years since I'd seen her, and her was so much different than the broken child clinging to her father, begging him to come back, she was now this beautiful, strong, independent young woman. As I thought about it, Lucy would be fifteen now, in fact it was three months before her sixteenth birthday. I'd missed her grow up, I'd missed her going into secondary school, I'd missed her first date, which was sad because I was really looking forward to scaring who ever had been brave enough to date an over protective soldiers daughter. She was beautiful, just like her mother, the same curvy figure with full hips and waist, I remember receiving letter from Christine telling me how Lucy was upset because some girls had called her fat, although Lucy was always a chubby child as she got older, she grew into her body and she was perfect to me. Her perfect round face was covered in a explosion of sandy blond ringlets down to her waist, he had my hair colour and her mothers eyes, a deep dark emerald, than shone all the time. "I promised you I'd come back" was the first thing I said to her, and we both sat and cried, holding each other. I was determined to be out of hospital before Lucy's sixteenth birthday, and I was. Three months ago I was lying in a coma and now I was sitting in the park with my daughter, who I thought I would never see again.

**What do you think? I know it's a little slow, but I promise that Sherlock and Charles will be in the next chapter. Feel free to leave a review or a PM with any ideas for future chapters, there always welcome!**

**-Watson's Girl-**


	3. Chapter 3

**Reminder - I own nothing. Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. I only own the OC's.**

**I've decided to skip the scene where Mike and John are talking in the park, and go straight to just before they enter the lab. But at least you get to meet Sherlock and Charles!**

**Thanks again to everyone who had read and reviewed, updates maybe a little slow as I'm starting college, and with this being my first story, I'm a little apprehensive to whether it's any good, but none the less, I will try to upload two maybe three times a week.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter 3

**LUCY**

When my dad first mentioned getting a flat share in London, honestly, I was a little disappointed, I hadn't told him yet but I had arranged with Grandma and Granddad for us to stay with them until we got ourselves back on our feet, and it had been so long since either of us saw them. I was also worried that we'd not find anywhere, because as my dad said "Who's want us as flat mates?", and he was right, who would want us? The broken soldier and his plain daughter, but as Mike told us that he knew someone who had said the same thing I saw signs of hope spread across John's face and I knew that this could be the fresh start that the both of us desperately needed.

We walked back to St Bart's with Mike as he continued to tell us about his colleague, well someone who didn't work there but just showed up to use their equipment, I found it strange that he didn't find it just the tiniest bit unusual. He did warn us that he was a bit strange, and that he also had a son, who was as equally strange, when I asked in what kind of way were they strange, "Wait and see." was the reply I received. Well who ever they were, no matter how 'strange' they were, they couldn't be _that_ bad. Could they?

* * *

**CHARLES**

"I'm going to get a coffee, do you want one?" I hopped down from the countertop of the workbench I'd been sitting on, and walked up to the man huddled close to a microscope, observing something that was apparently fascinating. He didn't respond, just simply turned his head ever so slightly to shoot me a sideways glance with his piercing blue eyes before returning to his attention to his work, it was quite unsettling. Growing up, Sherlock had always told me how much I looked like my mother, I couldn't remember what she looked like as she died when I was very young and dad didn't seem to have any photographs of her, in fact he rarely talked about her and when he did it was either to say "She's gone." or "She's not coming back." My mother died when I was about two years old, Sherlock told me that she just died, that it was sudden but for some reason I could never believe him. It wasn't until I was fourteen when I gained the courage to ask for the truth, without any sign of protest he told me. My mother, Kate Holloway, was mugged, beaten and left for dead in a dark and deserted alley in the lowest part of London. I didn't cry, I didn't scream in anger, I simply thanked him for finally telling me because I was thankful that he finally felt that I was old enough to understand. I gave up waiting for a response, sighing, I ran a hand through my messy ginger curls, identical to my dad's dark and wild ones. Now that I'm older, I can see why people have no problem determining our relations, we have the same abnormally high chiselled cheekbones with pale and almost transparent skin stretched over the top of them, and the same over defined cupids bow, it appears that the only thing I seemed to inherit from my mother, from what Sherlock has told me, is her deep chocolate eyes and her fiery hair.

"Molly's getting coffee." his deep voice suddenly breaking the silence, startling me a little.

"Oh. I don't recall her offering."

"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee." he quoted. "To which I said, black two sugars I'll be upstairs."

"She didn't offer to _get _you coffee dad."

"What else could she have possibly been doing?"

"Can't you _deduce_ that for yourself?" the sarcasm rolling from my tongue. Ignoring his intense glare, I walked back over to the workbench and pushed myself back on top, continuing to shuffle and read through some case notes. Three separate suicides, the victims had no connections, nothing in relation to each other except that all three were found somewhere that they had no reason for being there and they had all die to a cyanide overdose. Jeffery Patterson a middle-aged business man, body found in an empty office. James Phillimore, eighteen years old found in an abandoned sports centre. And finally Beth Davenport the Junior Minister for Transport, body found inside a port-a-loo on a construction site. They had absolutely nothing in common, nothing at all that links them or where their bodies were found. I could feel myself getting frustrated, so I tried to compose myself by closing my eyes and breathing quietly. The lab was now silent, except for the gentle ticking of the wall clock, I gave it a glance before quickly closing my eyes again, and saw that it was almost one o'clock, and if I was correct, which I rarely am not, the Mike Stamford would be coming through the door in three, two, one.

As if on cue the door swung open and in came Mike, now Mike was a large man and a rather slow walker, and I noticed that there was a longer pause in time from when the door opened to it clicking shut. My eyes remaining closed, I listened as the light buzz of conversation entered the room.

"Well, bit different from my day." Male, mid thirties, small metallic click with each step, a cane? No, a crutch, walks with a slight hitch.

"You have no idea." Mike, obvious.

"Well it has been, what, twenty years." Female, approximate age range of fifteen to eighteen.

"Mike can I borrow you're phone? There's no signal on mine." Once again Sherlock's baritone voice spilled into the room, I opened my eyes again and returned to trying to find the smallest of links in the case, letting the conversation carry on around me.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" Mike asked. He did have a point, there was nothing wrong with the phone, just my dad.

"Hm, I prefer to text."

"Sorry, it's in my coat." He was lying. It was in his top pocket judging by the slight bulge. I was planning on ratting him out before a voice spoke up.

"Er, here. Use mine." His voice was kind and sincere, he was obviously friendly more so as he was making a first impression. I look up then, just to see Sherlock's reaction to someone showing him some kindness, giving the room a quick glance a saw that the girl I heard speak before was nowhere to be found, shrugging this off I returned my attention to Sherlock and this stranger. He just glanced at Mike, stood and sauntered over to the man. "Oh, thank you." Now this was surprising, he did genuinely seem a bit taken back by this stranger's actions.

"This is an old friend of mine, Doctor John Watson." Mike chipped in to introduce them, as an attempt to break the awkward silence that had descended upon the room while Sherlock used John's phone to text someone, More than likely something regarding the case. After a few more seconds of silence that seemed to stretch out for ages, Sherlock finally spoke.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

* * *

**What does everyone think of Charles? I know there wasn't that much Sherlock in this chapter but this story is mainly going to be told through the eyes of Lucy and Charles, with the occasional John and Sherlock POV's thrown in.**

**The next chapter should be up later today, and maybe another one after that!**

**Thanks again to everyone who reads and reviews!**

**-Watson'sGirl_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Reminder - I own nothing. Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. I only own the OC's.**

**Wow, another update. I'm getting into the swing of this writing malarkey.**

**Hey, if anyone knows someone who does fan art or is interest in it themselves, then maybe someone would be lovely enough to do one of Lucy and Charles please. I will love you forever! In my head, I picture Lucy to look a bit like Katie Hall with Carrie Hope Fletcher's hair. And Charles to look like a teenage version of Eddie Redmayne, but that's just me.**

**Here are the links to Lucy's outfit:**

**Lucy - **** outfit/256013/perfect-fall-outfit**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 4

**CHARLES**

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

I rolled my eyes, I'd learned to be ready for his random outbursts of intellectual showcasing, they seem to be happening more often lately. Mike passes me a knowing glance as Sherlock continues to type away on the phone. "Sorry. What?" John looked genuinely confused as to how Sherlock, a complete stranger, someone who he has never met in his life up until a few moments ago, could possibly know this. He shifted awkwardly on his crutch, leaning heavily on one side, he was obviously feeling awkward and slowly growing uncomfortable, not knowing where this conversation was going. I chuckled quietly to myself, poor bloke, he had no clue what was about to happen.

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock repeated, slower this time, as if talking to a child. I could see John's face change from curious to insulted and slightly angry.

"Afghanistan, I'm sorry but how did you...?" The doctor was cut short and all heads turned to the door which had again swung open, Dr Molly Hooper trudged into the room holding a cup of coffee, she was quickly followed by a young woman, one who I did not know, who was also holding a cup of hot coffee. I presumed that this was the girl who I heard speak earlier, she must have gone to help Molly. I observed her as she walked over to me with a light skip in her step and held out the coffee. "White, one sugar." she stated, smiling, rather than asked. My breath caught at the sight, her smile showed of two rows of small white pearls, pushed her pleasantly rounded cheeks up ever so slightly so that her eyes seemed to narrow in on me. There was just something unreal and eerie about her. Her face, somewhat luminous, had a pale tone to it. The eyes were a piercingly sharp shade of green, her eyebrows were arched over the curve before dispersing onto the bridge of her small button nose. Plump and painted deep red, her lips had the strangest curl to them. Her round face was framed with long, sand-coloured ringlets, that frizzed out, falling to her hips. She was like no other girl I'd seen before, her make up was a little dark for her, but I could still clearly see the trail of light brown freckled carefully dusted over the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. I gave her a subtle one over, taking in full appearance, she was wearing a oversize brown jumper that clung to her wrist, black jeans which hugged her legs and behind showing of their full, curvy shape, her knee length brown boots gave her some added height making her legs seem longer and her hips rounder, as my gaze roamed back up my eyes fell on the creamy coloured scarf, much like mine, that was wrapped around her pale neck. Overall, she was truly an unearthly beauty. "Your coffee?" she said, her voice was light and not as high as I'd expected. I managed to pull my attention back to her face, to her gorgeous emerald eyes. I tried to find my voice, realising that I was staring at her.

"Oh yeah. Thanks" I hesitantly reached out to grab the cup just as she extended her arm forward, and I ended up punching the cup almost spilling it over her. My lightning fast reflexes kicked in and my other arm shot out to grab the cup, se must have done the same thing as our hands ended up on top of each others as we both tried to rescue the coffee. Quickly removing my hand I saw that her cheeks had turned a delicious she of pale pink, I couldn't help but chuckle. "Charles Holmes." I said as I extend my hand in an offer for her to take it. She looked up at me and the pinkness of her cheeks increased and darkened, a small smile passed her scarlet lips as she shook my hand.

"Lucy. Lucy Watson."

"Ah Molly, coffee. Thank you." We took our hands back and both turned just in time to see Sherlock lean towards Molly for a brief closer inspection. "What happened to the lipstick?" I hadn't noticed that Molly had removed the pale colour lipstick she'd put on just before we'd arrived. I felt sorry for her in a way, it was obvious to everyone that her had feelings for Sherlock, obvious to everyone but my dad. Molly wasn't a bad-looking girl, she just didn't really make an effort, always hiding herself under baggy jeans and multiple layers of jumpers and cardigans.

"It wasn't working for me" she shrugged awkwardly, giving Sherlock a hopeful smile, clearly fishing for a compliment.

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement." Sherlock stated whilst walking away as Molly's face lifted to gaze at him. "Your mouths too small now." He looked almost disgusted, he failed to see Molly's face fall again as she walked away, slightly heart-broken. "...Okay." she managed to squeak before hurrying out the room.

* * *

**JOHN**

I couldn't get my head around what had just happened in the past two minutes. A stranger somehow knew about my background, Lucy was fast become friendly with a boy who looked freakishly like the man before me and he'd just insulted a poor girl who only wanted him to notice her. Watching her stand there like an awkward little girl, I made a quick mental note to get to know this 'Molly' girl better, she seemed nice.

"How do you feel about the violin?" he said, completely out of the blue. I turned to look at Molly, but she had already scurried out of sight. Was he talking to me? I glanced at Mike who came me a small nod and smiled smugly, as if he hear my thoughts. "I'm sorry. What?"

He didn't even look up from his laptop where he was typing rather ferociously "I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end." He now turns to face me "Would that bother you? Potential flat mates should know the worst about each other." He grins, throwing me a hideously false smile. I cringe briefly, then turn to stare blankly at Mike.

"Oh, you...told him about me?"

"Not a word." I didn't believe him.

"So who said anything about flat mates?" Lucy quickly questioned, stepping up to him.

He just completely ignored her presence as he rose from his laptop and pulled on his dark greatcoat. _"I _did. I told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flat mate for. Charles too." I shot a look over at Charles, who had managed to find his way back to Lucy's side, he was a little too close for my liking. The man continued, "And here he is just after lunch with an old friend" He spun on the spot to glare at Lucy, "And his _companion_" he hissed darkly, almost spitting his comment, he turned back to me, "You're clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't that difficult a leap."

Unbelievable. "How _did_ you know about Afghanistan?" I asked but he just ignored me like he'd done to Lucy moments ago. Wrapping his navy blue scarf around his long neck, he reaches into his coat pocket, taking out his mobile phone and stares narrow eyed at the screen.

"Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. The four of us should be able to afford it." The four of us? Surely this young lad, Charles, didn't hang around with this man? I wasn't too sure if I wanted Lucy to be anywhere near either of them, although she did seem to be happy talking quietly to Charles.

"Charles." he said sternly to the boy, as if commanding a dog. Charles gave Lucy and me an apologetic look and walked to stand next to the tall dark man. "We'll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o'clock. Sorry – got to dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary." He stalked straight past me, returning his phone back to his pocket, Charles following hot on his heels. I was quite frankly pissed off by his arrogance and his way of speaking to not only me, but to both Lucy and Charles.

"Is that it?" I heard Lucy snap. She obviously wasn't too happy with this man either. Judging by the way he stopped suddenly I could sense that the feeling was muteral.

"Is that _what_?" his echoed his earlier comment to Lucy, except this time he did spit it. I don't know how she managed to stay calm and collected in this situation, but she did.

"We've only just met and now we're going to buy a flat together?"

"Problem?" He asked, obviously confused.

Her lips turned into a smug grin as she spoke, "I at least expected dinner first." Her eyes narrowed and she became involved in probably the most intense stare off I'd seen, the room was deathly silent, you could hear a pin drop. "Neither of us know a thing about each other. We don't even know where we're meet; I don' even know your name." The serious tone in her voice even made me a little wary. By the way his stare was burrowing into her I thought he was about the yell at her or worse, but he simply closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself before turning to me.

": I know you're an Army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him – possibly because he's an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that both your therapist and your daughter her thinks your limp's psychosomatic – quite correctly, I'm afraid." I said nothing. I looked over to Lucy who was returning my blank expression with a mixture of surprise and wonder. Pulling my eyes down, they fell to my leg and crutch, as I shuffle my feet uncomfortably. "That's enough to be going on with, don't you think dear?" that comment was directed towards Lucy, the smugness in his voice was annoying, very annoying. Without a word he gives a sideways glance to Charles while signalling to the door with a quick flick of his head. Charles turns to give me a nod and Lucy a small smile that lasted longer than it should have done looking at the lovely shade of pink that both of their cheeks had turned. Once he's out the door, the tall man sticks his head back around the corner to look squarely at the both me and Lucy.

"The name's Sherlock Holmes, and you know Charles." He says while wagging his eyebrows slightly and giving Lucy an all knowing smirk. Winking and giving his tongue a loud click he directs to me, "And the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon." he turns to dip an imaginary hat at Mike who replies with a simple rise of his hand. And then he was gone, just like that. I looked at Mike in disbelief and found him smiling and slowly nodding his head.

"Yeah. He's always like that."

* * *

**This took me a while to do, good first impressions and all that stuff.**

**At the beginning of the next chapter, I've decided to skip the meeting on the step of Baker Street and skip a bit ahead, but I will explain it properly in the chapter.**

**Anyway the next couple of chapters should be up in the next two days. **

**Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews!**

**-Watson'sGirl-**


	5. Chapter 5

**Reminder - I own nothing. Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. I only own the OC's.**

**As I've said before I'm skipping slightly ahead to just before Lestrade enters, just to save time, it will make sense. Trust me.**

**Tension rises between Sherlock and Lucy, I've kind of made him act like a complete dick to her. Oops.**

**Also, the story will overall be quite short, but it's mainly because the chapters are long (ish). **

**Lucy' Coat : . **

**WARNING: SOME OF THE SUBJECTS TOUCHED UPON IN THIS CHAPTER MAY BE SENSITIVE TO SOME PEOPLE.**

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 5

**SHERLOCK**

We'd only been in Baker Street a matter of seconds before _she_ managed to insult my home. Of course it would be messy, I'd just moved in. John seemed to be quite content wit his newspaper and an armchair, where as his daughter, whose name I've already deleted, seemed to have found comfort in talking to Charles and Mrs Hudson. She was going to be a distraction, I could already fore see that, the way they were all laughing at something she had said, and mainly the fact the my son couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. I understand that Charles is a responsible young man, but can he not control his stereotypical teenage hormones, he's known her al but five minutes! I did not like her. Her father on the other hand, well he was tolerable but trustworthy, I could tell.

"I looked you up on the internet last night." John said quickly. He researched me? Interesting.

"Oh, find anything interesting?" I was actually intrigued, normally I don't care what people online are writing about me, but if I wanted him to stay, I need to know.

"Actually, we found your website. The Science Of Deduction." Ah, I had forgotten about that, it's been a while since I've published anything. I couldn't help but smile proudly, he was obviously impressed if he felt he had to bring up the topic.

"What did you think?" He threw me a _'you have got to be kidding me' _look and admittedly, I'm a little hurt but I brush it aside.

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb." he sounded as if he was mocking me, he clearly didn't believe it.

"Yes. And I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone." I was getting smug now, mainly because I was desperate to prove him wrong and inevitably myself right. "How?" was is reply. They always ask that. I loved this part, this was the part when I simply tell them everything I know about them from a single glance, it's nothing special, it's just that most people are too stupid to concentrate properly. I resisted the temptation, and idea coming to me, turning to face Charles who is still talking to what's-her-name...Beth. No, Anna. Laura? It didn't matter, I didn't need to know it for what I was about to do.

"Charles. Would you care to demonstrate to Dr Watson how I did it?" Charles' conversation with the girls comes to a sudden stop, and he turns to me with a blank expression.

"Ok..ay." He blinks a few times before turning to John. "Well the way you entered the room"

"No not John." I put my hand up to stop him. With the same hand I flicked it to point across the room. "Her."

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**CHARLES**

Her. Her? I was impressed, normally it takes Sherlock on average, twelve seconds of knowing someone before subjecting them as a degrading subject. I didn't want to do it, I really didn't, because it never ends well. He's never asked me to do it before, so why now? Unless he was trying to impress John, he certainly wasn't trying to impress Lucy judging by their very brief, yet intense, conversation in the lab yesterday afternoon. My stomach begins to knot as I realise what he wants me to do, I refuse to do it. I like Lucy, she's my friend, I don't want to lose anymore people. I couldn't take it. "No." was all I said. It was all I needed to say to get a reaction from him.

"And why not?" even though he was giving me a very stern look, his voice was light as if I was a child.

"I can't. I won't do it." I gave Lucy and John a quick glance apologising for my dad's actions.

"Alright. Fine." he was breathing through his nose now, rather heavily. "I'll do it." Before I could stop him he'd stalked over to Lucy and was looking down his nose at her. She looked so miniscule next to his towering stature, yet she stood her ground, unflinching. He took a slowly breath before beginning. "The slight rough texture of your voice indicates that it's had a lot of strain put on it, makes sense as your a singer, also the thick callouses on your left hand fingertips suggests that you are a stringed instrument musician, a cello player and a guitar player to be exact. it's clearly obvious that your left handed due to the fact that your watch, which is covering numerous scars, is on your right wrist..."

"Sherlock!" I heard John yell over the top of his newspaper, it was obviously a very sensitive subject. Sherlock didn't even falter or break his eye contact with Lucy.

"...scars which are quite fresh and self inflicted, quite reasonable going by your traumatic childhood..."

"That is enough dad!" Once again, he remained still, pressing on.

"...the death of your mother and the injury of your father would have been hard, but add years of bullying for your bigger than average stature, and you couldn't cope."

"I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH!" I bellowed. I was wasting my breath. I could hear John's breath hitch as if dreading what he would say next. I looked over to Lucy, who's eyes were now red and full to the brim wit salty tears just waiting to burst over the bank and flow.

"The outcome was inevitable. The number of scars indicate and account for the multiple times you've tried to end you life..."

The room fell silent as the sharp sound of Lucy's palm connecting with Sherlock's protruding cheek. He was silent now, deathly silent. I honestly thought he was going to do something drastic, but he just pulled his suit jacket down, straightening it, and walked silently back to the window. He just stood there, looking out. Lucy however, had managed to blink away her tears and compose herself. She began to make her way to the window, put I extended my arm and put it on hers, stopping her. It was best to leave him be. She quickly walked over to John who had put his newspaper down and was now sitting waiting with open arm ready to take Lucy in, he pulled her onto his lap and cradled her like a toddler. Her body shook as she sobbed silently into John's jumper as he held the back of her head shushing her. They sat like that a while before Mrs Hudson cam bustling in.

"What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought that would be right up your street." She paused as she looked over at Lucy curled up on John's lap, her sobbing beginning to cease, John gave Mrs Hudson and nod and mouthed 'Sherlock'. Mrs Hudson turned to Sherlock and I expected her give him hell, like always, but she didn't. "Three exactly the same."

"Four." He stated in a matter of fact voice. I joined him at the window and saw someone getting out of the police car below, lights still flashing. "There's been a fourth."

Hearing the stair case creak as someone ascended them to the flat, I turned to see Detective Inspector Lestrade jog into the room, politely nodding at Mrs Hudson.

"Where?" I asked.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens."

"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get us if there wasn't something different."

"You know how they never leave notes?" I gave a quick nod. "Well this one did."

This seemed to catch Sherlock's attention and he turned sharply to face Lestrade.

"Who's on forensics?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Anderson." He looked down to me "And Westerson"

"Westerson won't work with me." I groaned at the same time as Sherlock said "Anderson won't work with me."

Lestrade looked slightly creeped out by our synchronisation. "Well they won't be your assistants!"

"But we need an assistant." I complained.

"Will you come?"

I looked up at Sherlock and gave a quick shrug, he responded with a nod.

"Not in the car, we'll be right behind."

"Thank you." Lestrade briskly left the room and ran down the stairs slamming the door behind him. As soon as the door was closed, Sherlock suddenly came back to life, jumping in the hair his legs kicking up behind him and his arm tucked up. "Brilliant! Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh, it's Christmas!" After clenching his fists triumphantly and spinning round the room happily, he picks up his scarf and coat he starts to wind the scarf around his neck as he heads for the kitchen pulling on his coat as he does so. I can here Mrs Hudson giving him a lecture about how she is his landlady and not his housekeeper, I couldn't help but laugh, she would have to get used to 'not being his housekeeper'. The flat was silent for a few moments, feeling a hand rest on the top of my head, I looked up from my position on sitting crossed legged on the wooden floor to see Lucy looking down at me, resting against my head, beaming.

"Hey." I grabbed her, gently pulling her down to sit next to me, her other hand remained in my fiery curls messing with it, I didn't mind. I wanted to release her wrist but I couldn't prevent my gaze from falling to her watch. She noticed this and removed her hand from my hair and tugged her watch a few centimetres up her fore arm. Maintaining my hold on her wrist, I brought my other hand up to carefully trace the seven faded pink and white line that rose from her skin.

"I remember every single one." she whispered. I continued to trace the line, which overlapped several time, and were all different lengths, the longest reaching about eight centimetres went from the base of her palm diagonally over to the other side of her wrist. She followed my gaze and leaned closer, "That was the last time I did it. The day before my dad came out of his coma, I thought he was never going to wake up, my mother was already dead, I couldn't handle losing my dad too." I heard her take a quick shaky breath before continuing. "I had no home, I'd already dropped out of school, lost all my friends and my chances of getting into any colleges or universities. I just didn't want to be alone." I wanted to pull her to me, to tell her she wasn't alone, but was interrupted by Sherlock re-entering the flat looking directly at John.

"You're a doctor. In fact you're an army doctor" he said almost quizzically.

John grabbed his crutch and pushed himself out of the chair with a low grunt. "Yes."

"Any good?"

"_Very _good." he stated.

"Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths."

"Mmm, yes."

"Bit of trouble too, I bet." He was inching closer to John with ever sentence

"Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much." he was quieter now, unsure as to where he was going with this.

There was a brief pause as Sherlock observed to doctor. "Wan to see some more?"

"Oh _God_, yes." John said fervently.

"Come on you two." Sherlock slapped us on the backs. "Grab your coats."

I jumped up, landing on my two feet, and bent down to grab Lucy's hands and pulled her up, a little less gracefully than I originally hope, making her stumble and nearly fall backwards. "Sorry." I murmured. Once I'd but my light grey greatcoat, identical to Sherlock's, and my dark green scarf wrapped around my neck, I waited for Lucy to run to her room to get her coat. She reappeared in knee length deep red coat that buttoned up and tied at the neck, she tied her ringlets so they were secure on the back of her head in a messy bun as she re-wrap her cream scarf around her neck we follow John and Sherlock down the thin wooden stair case to find Mrs Hudson worrying, as usual.

"Your all going out? All four of you?" she sounded a quite down hearted as she said this, I felt a bit sorry for her, always on her own.

Sherlock stopped where he was a walked backwards, before turning round "Impossible suicides? Four of them? There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something _fun_ going on!" he gently shakes her shoulder and kisses her cheek.

"Look at you all happy. It's not decent." She can't help but smile, though, as he turns away and heads for the front door again.

"Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs Hudson, is on!" The four of us march through the front door of Baker Street into the sharp night winter air.

"Taxi!"

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**This is probably the longest chapter yet, and took me way longer than it should have done write, but I'm easily distracted.**

**Thanks to everyone whose read, review, followed and favourite, you are awesome!**

**-Watson'sGirl-**


	6. Chapter 6

**Reminder - I own nothing. Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. I only own the OC's (Lucy, Charles and Alex.)**

**I know the stories been kind of slow, but it's picking up. This chapter introduces another OC of mine, personally I find him creepy.**

**Anyway, Enjoy!**

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Chapter 6

**CHARLES**

A taxi pulled up almost immediately and we all climbed in John first, followed by me, Sherlock and finally Lucy. We sit in a long, yet comfortable silence as we drive through the heart of London, the luminous lights of the night life passing by us. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that John is itching to say something, but doesn't know whether it is a good time or not. Sherlock must have noticed this too as he is slyly smirking to himself as if he was enjoying how unsettled John was. It was another five minutes before Sherlock finally relieve John of his silence.

'Okay, you've got questions.'

John perked up, shifting his head from the window to look at Sherlock. 'Yeah, where are we going?'

'Crime scene. Next'

'Who are you? What do you do?' John asked the two questions that he must have been desperate to ask.

'What do you think?' Sherlock replied without looking at him.

'Well I would say private detective' He was speaking slowly, as if hesitant and unsure of what to say, in case it was wrong.

'But...' Sherlock began his sentence for him.

'... but the police don't go to private detectives.' He gives me a quick glance. 'And the fact that your son 'assists' you is a little weird to be honest'

'I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job.'

'What does that mean?'

Sherlock was now facing him, looking directly at him 'It means that when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me. And Charles does exactly as you said, he assists me.'

It was now Lucy' turn to perk up as she moved her focus from the city life to Sherlock 'But the police don't consult amateurs. No offence'

Sherlock simply ignores this and continues speaking to John 'When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said, "Afghanistan or Iraq?" You looked surprised.'

'Yes, how _did _you know' John recalled yesterdays events.

'I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. But your conversation as you entered the room said trained at Bart's, so Army doctor – obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp's really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan – Afghanistan or Iraq.' He finished, clicking the 'K' sound of the last word.

'You said that he had a therapist?' Lucy said, trying to show interest but was frankly too tired from her earlier ordeal to be bothered.

'He's got a psychosomatic limp – of _course_ he's got a therapist. Then there's his brother.'

'Hmm?' John replied seeming confused.

'Your phone. It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but you're looking for a flat share – you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift, then.' Sherlock said whilst holding his hand out. John, understanding his gesture and handed him his phone, and he turns it over inspecting it carefully. 'Scratches. Not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. Next bit's easy. You know it already.'

'The engraving.' On the underside of the phone was a message engraved on the case that read:

_Harry Watson From Clara xxx_

'Harry Watson: clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. _Could_ be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who's Clara? Three kisses says it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently – this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble then – six months on he's just given it away. If she'd left _him_, he would have kept it. People do – sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it. He left _her_. He gave the phone to _you_: that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help: that says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you _don't_ like his drinking.'

John was taken back 'How could you _possibly_ know about the drinking?'

'Shot in the dark. Good one though.' Sherlock smirked looking towards me. 'Maybe this times you'd care to finish the deduction, Charles.' He was telling me and not asking, so I didn't really have a choice, yet I still found myself looking towards Lucy, silently asking her permission to continue, she caught my eyes and gave a little smile and a nod. Well crap, here goes nothing. I took a single deep breath before turning to John.

'The erm...the power connection. It has tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone and you never see a drunk's without them.' I said as Sherlock hands John back his mobile.

'See John, you were right.' Sherlock continued, smugly.

'Me, I was right? Right about what?'

Sherlock gave me a look, as if telling me to continue. I sighed before going on 'The police _don't _consult amateurs.'

'That...was amazing' Lucy said to the both of us, in awe.

Sherlock was pleasantly surprised. 'Do you think so?'

'Of _course_ it was. It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary.'

'Well that's not what people normally say.'

'Why? What do the normally say?'

'Piss off' I gave a little chuckle and she soon joins, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

And with that, the silence resumed. After another five minutes we arrived at the crime scene. We spilled out of the taxi, and I walked to the cabbie's window and handed him a twenty pound note. Walking side by side, we made our way across the road, dodging through a row of parked cars belonging to local residents and polices cars with their lights flashing. As we got closer to the scene, I noticed that there was a group of police officers creating a barrier, in front of the police tape, to keep the small crowd of people, mainly nosey residents of the estate, from getting too close.

'Did I get anything wrong?' I heard Sherlock ask.

'Harry and me don't get on, never have. Clara and Harry split up three months ago and they're getting a divorce; and Harry is a drinker.'

'Spot on, then. I didn't expect to be right about everything.' Sherlock said with a little skip in his step, looking impressed with himself.

'And Harry's short for Harriet.' Lucy said as she passed in front of Sherlock to come and walk by me. Hearing this made Sherlock stop dead in his tracks.

'Harry's your sister, John?'

John was ignoring him, smiling slightly, as he continued onward 'Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here. Lucy too, why is she here?'

'Thanks dad.' Lucy said, sounding angry, but looking at her, she had a smile on her face.

'Your sister?' Sherlock snarled through gritted teeth.

'No, seriously, what are we doing here?'

Sherlock continued walking 'There's always something.' He sounded quite annoyed.

As we neared the crime scene and closed in on the police tape cordoning off the house, we were approached by Sergeant Donovan. Donovan was a tall woman with dark bouncy curls that lay on her shoulder, she had one of those faces that you just wanted to punch. She took on look at us and sneered 'Hello, freak.' This was directed at Sherlock, but I couldn't help but feel that she felt the same towards me.

'Freak?' Lucy whispered pulling on my sleeve. I put my finger against my lip as a signal for her to be quiet.

'Ah I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade.'

'Why?'

'I was invited.'

'_Why?_' Donovan was stubborn, I'll give her that.

'I think he wants me to have a look.' Sherlock's comment oozed with sarcasm.

'Well you know what I think, don't you?'

'Always Sally.' Sherlock said whilst lifting the tape and ducking underneath it as I followed him, at the same time he took a deep breath in through his nose. 'I even know you didn't make it home last night.'

Donovan looked suspiciously at Sherlock, on edge. 'I don't...' She paused before putting her arm out to block John and Lucy from ducking under the tape line. '...Who are these two?' She looked John and Lucy up and down, judging them.

'Colleague of mine. John Watson. And Lucy is his daughter.' Sherlock sighed, beginning to grow impatient.

'Colleague? How do you get a colleague?' She turned back to look at John and Lucy. 'Did he get mini freak to follow you home love?' Lucy shifted on the spot, tugging at her sleeves, obviously uncomfortable, John noticing this stepped back slightly.

'Would it be better if we just waited...'

'No.' Sherlock interrupted, pulling the police tape up further to give them enough access. Donovan mumbled something under her breath before putting her police radio to her mouth. 'Freak's here. I'm bringing him in.'

She lead us across the road towards a big three story house, which had all the windows and curtains opened so you could see right into the house, where there was a bustle of activity as different police and forensic officers moved from room to room examining the scene. As we approached the steps leading up to the front door, Anderson, the forensic officer for Scotland Yard came marching out of the house and down the stairs, shortly followed by Westerson, his assistant, the both of them were heading straight for us. Anderson completely ignored me and Lucy and started talking directly to Sherlock about not contaminating 'his' crime scene, Westerson however came over to us.

'Hey there freak.' he gave me a hefty slap on the back which I didn't appreciate, at all. It seemed that Donovan's little pet name for Sherlock and I had reached every department of the police force.

'Alex.' I gave him a stern look, but noticed that his attention was no longer on me, buy rather on Lucy, who was oblivious to what was happening, she was too busy looking around at the large number paparazzi and press that had gathered and was now snapping away taking pictures of anything that moved. 'Alex this is Lucy Watson. Lucy, Alex Westerson.' At the sound of my voice, Lucy's head whipped around to look at Alex.

'Hi.' was all she said, but this didn't satisfy Alex. He reached forward and grabbed her hand before placing it to his lips for a kiss; he said nothing for a few seconds as he continued to hold her hand. Alex was much taller than Lucy, he practically loomed over her, looking down. He was the pinnacle of 'tall, dark and handsome' with his jet black hair that was slicked back, the dark shadow around his mouth and chin make his face seem more defined. I could tell how uncomfortable Lucy was by the way her shoulder stiffened. She pulled her hand away, too soon for Alex as he pulled it back to him. 'You know, you have really pretty eyes.' he grinned at her, slightly maniacal, as his dark eyes borrowed into her.

Rescuing Lucy from his grasp, I pushed his shoulders turning him around. 'Where's Lestrade? He'll be waiting for us.' I sad before giving him a gentle shove to go up the stairs. Turning round, I put a hand on Lucy's shoulder and motioned for her to go inside as John and Sherlock jogged lightly up the stairs following us. I walked through the large wooden arch way to find Lestrade standing at a make shift station at he bottom of a large staircase, he was pulling on a pair of blue overalls, as well as snapping at Alex telling him to leave the girl alone and get back to work. Alex glared at Lestrade before placing his hand on the small of Lucy's back causing her to jump slightly, he whispered something in her ear making an adorable flush of pink spread across her cheeks as he walked over to the station to pull on his overalls.

I had never been fond of Alex, but with Lucy around I felt that I had to be more cautious about him, for her sake.

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**The ending is a bit lousy I know, but I couldn't figure out a decent one.**

**This is by far the longest chapter, and most of them from now on will be around this length.**

**Also I've changed Alex's job from Lestrade's assistant to Anderson's forensic assistant along with his age from sixteen to eighteen for the sake of his job.**

**-Watson'sGirl-**


	7. Chapter 7

**Reminder - I own nothing. Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. I only own the OC's (Lucy, Charles and Alex.)**

**Alex creeps me out, I honestly don't know why I made him like that! I apologize if he makes people uncomfortable, I know he makes me uncomfortable. He's just so sleazy - what's wrong with me?**

**Also, I'm sorry if the story is progressing too slow, but I don't want to rush, I want to follow the story line fully.**

**I also do not own the song in this chapter - which you should all totally listen to, I love it so much.**

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 7

**CHARLES**

'So where are we?' Sherlock asked Lestrade already heading for the stairs.

'Upstairs' He and John followed as he snapped on his latex gloves. I was about to follow them too, but was stopped by Alex putting his hand down my shoulder, hard.

'We may as well stay down here, it's already pretty crowded up there.' He turned from me and stalked over to the staircase where Lucy was sitting on the bottom step, resting her head against the banister, at first I thought she was asleep as her face was completely relaxed, her heavy eyelids drooping slightly as she tried to stay awake. I watched, soundless and motionless as he sank down next to her with a hefty thud, causing her to jump awake, her eyes wide with surprise.

'So what's a pretty girl like you hanging around with a couple of freaks and that guy with the limp.' He was attempting to flirt as well as be serious at the same time, but he was coming across as more of a self obsessed jerk, as opposed to the heart-throb he thought himself to be.

'I live with them.' she said nonchalantly. Even I thought that it sounded a bit weird, Alex must have too as I saw him sit up a bit as his eyebrows hitched as he looked at her confused. 'Oh no I mean, my dad and me had just moved back to London and needed a place to live. So we got a flat share with _Charles_ and_ Sherlock_' the emphasis that she put on our names showed that she was obviously angry that people kept referring to us as freaks.

'Your dad?'

'Yeah, you know, the guy with the limp.' yes, she was definitely angry, clear by the way the suddenly stood up and stormed up the stairs, I couldn't help but chuckle a I began to make my way after her to the crime scene on the upper floor. However, the enjoyment I was getting from watching Alex sitting there soon faded as, following his gaze, I saw he was staring at her, well her arse to be exact, with an unsettling glint in his eye.

'Hey!' I marched over to him, before pulling him up to stand 'I suggest you keep your eyes and your sick little thoughts to yourself' the words spilling from my mouth before I even had a chance to think about it. It startled me how quickly his eyes changed from lustful to manic, as he stared at me, if he were any taller I may have been intimidated, using my height to my advantage, I stood my ground.

'Last time I checked' he leaned in sneering 'we live in a free country, where a man has the right to look at anything and everything he wants.' he finished with a wicked smile curling to his dark lips.

'Perhaps you are failing to see that she is barely sixteen, and you are eighteen. So show a bit of respect.' I spat at him, as I pushed past him, our shoulders briefly colliding, knocking us both. I was no further than the third stair before he was right behind me, breathing heavily on my neck, unfazed I turned to face him, our eyes directly level, his dark one borrowing into my pale ones.

'So she's a little younger than me? Look kid, what's your problem?'

I didn't even grace what he said with a response, I was too busy looking up the staircase at Lestrade, who had just exited the room where the body was, he looked pissed off, but seemed to relax a bit as he began a friendly conversation with Lucy, who was leaning against the wall. 'Oh I see' his voice was coming from next to me now 'didn't realise she was your girl.' My girl? Good god it was like he's stepped right out of a cheesy sixty's movie. I'm usually able to control my anger, but this time, there was something about him that made me want to repeatedly slam his head against the wall. I snapped my head round to meet his stare. 'She's not my girl! She's not anyone's girl!' I hissed, louder than I had intended to, judging by the stares of the police officers on the lower level, who had now turned to see what all the commotion was about, thankfully, no one on the floor above us heard. Before Alex had a chance to retaliate, we were pushed out the way as Sherlock bustled past us, mumbling to himself about serial killers and how Jennifer Wilson colour co-ordinates her lipstick with her shoes.

'Well we can't just wait Sherlock!' Lestrade bellowed down the stairs to the consulting detective who was now smiling to himself.

'No, we're done waiting. Look at her, really look! Houston we have a mistake - get onto Cardiff, find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends are, find Rachel!' He shouted up the stairs, whilst typing rapidly on his phone.

'That's great, but what mistake?' Lestrade yelled back, clearly annoyed. Sherlock reappeared for a few seconds to shout at the detective inspector.

'Pink!'

And then he was gone. Lestrade came running down the stairs cursing about bloody consulting detectives and know it all's, under his breath. He as followed by John, who had his arm linked through Lucy's and she was walking by his side, carrying his crutch as she helped him down the steep staircase. I went to speak to Lestrade to catch up on what I missed, but he was already outside. As John and Lucy approached, I heard John say how he was going to find Sherlock, and he wanted her to stay here. Once he had left the house, Lucy came over and sat on the makeshift table.

'Her name's Jennifer Wilson. Media person in her late thirties, unhappily married, serial adulterer with a string of lovers. She's from Cardiff, travelled up to stay one maybe two nights.' wow, I was like having another Sherlock in the room, she stopped her rambling after realising what she was doing. 'Oh sorry, just thought I'd fill you in on what you missed'

'Got it' was all I said.

'Can we go home, I'm exhausted.' she asked, managing to stifle a yawn.

'Sure. Come on.' We made our way out of the house, down the steps and towards the police tape. Sherlock and John were nowhere to be seen, in fact there was hardly anybody about now, the crowd of residents had dispersed. We had barely made it to the bottom of the street before I heard more footsteps running behind us. Turning, I saw Alex jogging towards us.

'Here, let me walk you guys home. I'm heading this way anyway.' he said giving a cheeky grin to Lucy, who blushed slightly. The three of us walked side by side, Lucy in the middle, down the high street. I remained silent as Alex indulged Lucy in conversation about school and childhood. Dull. We were about ten minutes into our walk home, when Lucy stopped us both.

'Ooo, a karaoke bar. Can we go in? I love karaoke!' she was hopping about from side to side like an excited child on Christmas morning.

'I thought you were tired?'

'You're never too tired for karaoke!' she squealed as she grabbed both mine and Alex's arm and dragged us in. I found a table in the corner as Alex headed straight for the bar, already drinking a two shots that were left sitting on the bar; Lucy ran to the stage and started looking through the song book. Alex was the first to return, with a pint of beer, he sat himself down next to me, without saying a word. No more than thirty seconds later Lucy can skipping over, taking off her coat. 'Okay, guys I'm on next!'

'What are you singing?' Alex asked, those shots and the pint of beer he'd already half drunk must have had an effect on him as his s's were slightly slurred.

'_How 'Bout A Dance_' she grinned before turning to look at the man who was now waving at her motioning her to come to the stage. 'Wish me luck!' She squeaked before running down to the stage, a few seconds later the pub was filled with the sound of a country violin slowly playing the intro to the song, what followed next surprised me.

_**How 'bout a dance? What do you say?  
I've got some moves that I'd love to show you.  
Let's find a spot and dance the night away.  
How 'bout a dance? It's always fun.  
Come over here. Let me get to know you.  
Can't beat a band to lift your spirits high.  
You look so handsome.  
How 'bout a dance? Let's make a start.  
Music like this can really throw you.  
You'll lose the blues, and you may lose your heart.  
**_

Now this, I did not expect, and going by the look on Alex's face, neither did her. Her voice was really good, amazing in fact, it had a big ballad sound to it which suited the song perfectly. I must have stared with my mouth slightly open, because as we quickly made eye contact, a huge smile spread across her face. She continued singing, her passion was as powerful as the songs.

_**Tonight is the night I've been waiting for.  
Even the moon looks just right.  
I'm sure the crowd will make room on the floor.  
When they see you look like you do.**_

Her powerful voice flooded through the speakers as she fell deeper into the song, I continued sitting there motionless, complete mesmerised, our eye contact never breaking. Alex however, who had somehow managed to finished his half pit as well as another full one and was returning with his third and two more shots. He was obviously drunk and he slumped down next to me after walking into the table two or three times. He leaned across the table to tap my arm, still without breaking eye contact I nodded 'what?' at him. 'She's got a set of lungs on her, eh?' he slurred across the table top, before exclaiming 'God she's hot!' I didn't bother replying him, I just nodded feigning interest, which was probably a bad thing to do as he started laughing 'Ha! Ah I knew it! You're totally tapping that aren't you?' I just managed to make out what he said, it disgusted me. I was familiar the term 'tapping', I internally cringed, didn't think of Lucy like that. Did I? Still, I said nothing _don't add fuel to the fire _I mentally told myself, I returned my full focus back to Lucy.

_**So how 'bout a dance? Let's make a start.  
Music like this can really throw you.  
You'll lose the blues, and you may lose your heart.  
You'll lose the blues, and you may lose your heart. **_

The song ended and he pub erupted into a rapturous mix of applause, cheers and whistles, Alex was standing in his chair, wolf whistling and swaying in his drunken state, while I slowly stood and clapped, my smile was equally as big as hers, as she pushed through the crowd of people who had gather round he stage to shake her hand and compliment her. By the time she got back to the table she must have been stopped by everyone in her bar, her face was beetroot red, both from the heat of the stage lights and embarrassment. 'Way to go babe!' Alex slurred at her, she rolled her before grabbing her coat.

'I think we need to get you home Alex.' she said giggling, as she pulled his head from the table and put her hands on his waist lifting him gently from the booth and guided him to the door. I quickly followed behind before leaning down to whisper to her 'That was amazing.' She gasped slightly, a bit startled by my rather husky voice, and turned to look over her shoulder to give me a look, as if she didn't believe me 'Honest' I reassured her. We stood silently outside the bar as Alex leaned against the window sill, his head was lolling dangerously close to a half full pint of lager that was perched on the sill, the silence was interrupted by my phone tinkling, notifying me I had a text as well as seven missed calls, one from Sherlock and six from John. 'Excuse me a minute' I politely said to Lucy as I stepped to the side to try to ring Sherlock and John back. No reply, Sherlock's phone was turned off and John wasn't answering, giving up I read the message that just came through, the number was clearly John's but the text was from Sherlock - **_Baker Street. Come at once if convenient._ S.H** - Ignoring it I turned back round the corner to see Lucy chatting away to a now fully standing Alex, I was about to walk over when another text message came through, groaning, I opened the message - _**If Inconvenient, come any way. **_**S.H **- I was about to reply when scream split through the night's air, I darted around the corner with only one thought flooding through my mine. Lucy.

* * *

**Ooh, cliff hanger! (I hope.) **

**The song that Lucy sang was called How 'Bout A Dance from the Broadway show Bonnie and Clyde, you should totally listen to it, it is amazing, as I said in the OC description I am describing Lucy's voice as Laura Osnes' (who plays Bonnie) because she is an amazing singer and actress and I just love her!**

**Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews and all that good stuff! The next chapter may be up later today, but if not it will be up early next week!**

**-Watson'sGirl-**


	8. Chapter 8

**Reminder - I own nothing. Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. I only own the OC's (Lucy, Charles and Alex.)**

**WARNING - This chapter contains some sexual harassment - It is mild but I should still warn you in case it make people uncomfortable. **

**MrsCumberbatch - If you didn't like him in the last chapter, then you'll certainly hate him after this :)!**

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 8

**LUCY **

I watched as Charles rounded the corner with his mobile press against his ear, he was grumbling something under his breath. Must be Sherlock. I was strange to think that I'd known both Chares and Sherlock for less than 48 hours, yet me and my dad had already moved in with them, accompanied them to a crime scene, and I'd just sang in front of Charles, which was something that I rarely did, except for my mother. I was nine before either my mum or my dad even knew I could sing, and that was when I was when I was the angel in the school's nativity play. I suffered from major stage fright, because I desperately want to perform on the West End, I joined a acting class hoping to conquer my fear, but it just made it worse, which is why I'm surprised at the fact the I willingly sang in front of Charles, Alex - a boy who I'd known all but three hours and a bar full of complete strangers. Remembering that Alex was there, I looked over at him to make sure that he hadn't fallen asleep or passed out, and found him standing upright, swaying slightly. He made his way over to me, via the wall, and puts his arm down heavily across my shoulders to pull me in for a hug as well as leaning against me for extra support.

'You got a good voice babe.' he slurred his seemingly new nickname for me as he rested his chin against the top of my head. 'You're real pretty to.'

He was wobbling now, pushing me backwards against the wall as he stumbled forwards, his other arm reaching out to grab my upper arm. I breathed in sharply as my back connected with the wall, Alex's chest holding me there. 'Your eyes are pretty too. They're really sexy' My eyes were sexy? Okay now I was beginning to feel uncomfortable, I don't handle compliments very well, so instead of replying my cheek with a burning shade of pink. Desperately wanting to escape this awkward situation, I pulled his arm from around my neck.

'Looks like I need to call you a cab' Trying to make light of the situation I lifted his arm and ducked under it to step out of his embrace, but Alex was having none of it, keeping his hand on my upper arm, he put the other on my waist before lowering his head. Before our lips could meet, I snapped my head to the left, so his wet mouth landing on my neck instead. 'What do you think you're doing? I didn't want to shout and attract unnecessary attention. He lifted his head before taking his hand from my waist and grasping my chin to pull out heads together so our foreheads were touching, his breath heavy on my face.

'Oh come on, you know you want to. I know I do.' He leans down, pressing his mouth to my neck again and begins to leave a trail of disgusting wet kisses up and down my neck, whilst pushing my head back against the wall. I place one arm out to steady myself, I ended up knocking the half full pint glass that was placed on the window still next to me, causing it to fall over, spilling all the way down my shoulder and chest.

'Look Alex, I barely know you.' I pushed his head from my neck and held his face in my shaking hands. 'And you are very drunk, I think you need to go home and sleep it off.' I pushed him off me far enough for me to duck out of his reach, but he was quicker. His arm shot out and he grabbed my wrists and pushes me hard against the wall, holding me there. 'Alex get off me!' I was begging him now, but he paid no attention to my pleas as he leaned down to kiss my jaw. 'Don't. Please' the plea came from my mouth as a pathetic whimper, only causing him to smirk at me.

'I thought you would be easy, girls like you always are.'

I used my knee to push him away, giving him a look of disgust. 'What the hell is that supposed to mean?!'

'Oh you know what I mean, Lucy. Girls like you, the desperate ones, always willing to put themselves out for the first person to show them the slightest bit of attention.' He let go of my wrists only for his hands o begin to roam up and down the back of the top of my legs, squeezing and nipping at my skin as his long, bony fingers explored my legs 'You're lonely, I can tell. You're desperate to be loved.' I closed my eyes, feeling another sloppy kiss press to my cheek, then my chin and then finally on my mouth. 'Suppose that's what Charles is for eh? A little comfort now and then'

I struggled to get out of his hold, thrashing and spitting at him 'you pig!' he pushed his mouth back down on mine as I whimpered and wriggled against him. It was useless, I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter as I he tried to push his slimy tongue into my closed mouth, I gasped opening my mouth slightly, but it was enough for him to force his way in. I screamed into his mouth as his tongue invaded my mouth, violating me. How long was this going to last? A sicker thought entered my mind - how far was he going to go? His mouth still on mine, he ran his hand back up my legs and skimmed them over my bum, squeezing it hard enough for me to scream. This only made him bit my lip to keep me quiet, I gasped as I felt his teeth bear down hard against the soft flesh of my lips, swollen from his violent kisses. And as quick as it began, it was over. His tongue quickly slid from my mouth, his hands unclasped my bum and I was pulled to the side, a strong arm wrapped back over around my chest.

'I thought I already warned you about keeping your eyes to yourself, or was I not clear enough!' bellowed a familiar deep voice. I opened my eyes to see Charles standing diagonally in front of me, holding me back with his arm wrapped around me, his fiery curls were wild atop of his head, his piercing blue eyes were now a few shades darker as he glared at Alex, nostrils flaring. Alex was now staggering back and forth as he tried to keep his balance

'You never said nothing about hands' he wiggles his hands mockingly in the air, I cringed as I looked at his hands that moments ago were raking over my numb body.

'Alex just go home' I pleaded from behind Charles, who quietly shushes me. Alex lunged forward trying to make a grab for my arm, I flinch and grab Charles jacket tighter as he pulled me close to him, my heaving chest pressed against his warm, solid back, he was holding his other arm up to block Alex's attempted grab.

'What is your problem?' He stumbled forward, before grabbing the window sill to steady himself 'Are you jealous that someone's moving in on your girl?' Charles' girl, me? Why was Alex saying this, had Charles said something about me? I shook my head, now was not the time to think about that.

'Like I said before, she's not my girl!' Alex lunged again, making another grab for my arm, this time however, instead of simply blocking his arm, Charles also lunged forward blocking Alex's arm and punched him hard enough in the face to knock him out. I yelped as Alex flew back bouncing off the wall and slumped down to the ground, unconscious. I felt my legs begin to violently shake as the adrenaline wore off, I tried to take a step but fell forward. Before I crumped to the ground I felt Charles secure arms around my waist. I felt safe, safe enough that I burrowed my face into his chest and sobbed, my body shaking heavily. Charles said nothing as he took his phone out of his coats pocket to phone Lestrade. Over my sobs, I heard him tell Lestrade that Alex had been causing trouble and needed an escort home, he then quickly put his phone back into his pocket, and just held me against him, much like my dad had done earlier that morning. I felt like such a child, to be sobbing into his shirt as I held a tight grasp onto his arms, as I heaved heavy sobs into his chest, as he gently stroked my head, pulling me closer into his embrace. Most people would avoid most human contact after being groped by a sleazy drunk man, but I felt safe here, wrapped up in his arms as he whispered words of comfort into my ears. We stay like that for around ten minutes, until Lestrade arrived, he took one look at Alex against the wall and me and Charles in out huddled state, and practically leapt out of his car to rush over to us.

'What happened, is she okay?' he placed one hand on my elbow and the other under my chin, lifting my head to face him, his soft eyes quickly scanned over my face checking for injuries. Once he was satisfied that there were none, he gently pulled on my elbow as Charles carefully grasped my waist and they swiftly pulled me back up to my feet. Lestrade then tuned to look at Alex, who now had a violent red swell on his right cheek. 'What happened to him?'

'He was ridiculously drunk and was harassing Lucy so I punched him' Charles explained, still holding me.

'Woah, Woah wait! Harassing Lucy how?' Unable to speak, Charles quickly explained what had happened and I looked up at Lestrade in time to see his face fall, taken back. 'Oh god, Lucy are you okay?'

'I'm fine, I just want to go home' I had somehow managed to find my voice again, but it came out as a pathetic, hoarse croak.

Lestrade took his phone from his pocket and dialled a number, at the same time, taking long strides, he glided over to the passenger side of the car and opened the door 'Come on, get in.' he held the door open and motioned for me to get in 'I'll take you home.' I quietly slid into the passenger seat, as Charles shut the door.

'What about him?'

'I'll call his parents to tell them to collect him.' He made his way to the drivers side an climbed in, just as whoever he was calling picked up 'Hello, is that Mrs Westerson? We've had some complaints from the _Dog and Rose_ bar on the high street, saying that Alex is showing some drunken and disorderly behaviour.' A faint females voice could be heart through the receiver, 'Yes, well we need you to go and pick him up.' Another high pitched ramble. 'I have more important matters to attend to, than looking after your son, Mrs Westerson' he paused 'Okay, goodbye' he snapped his phone shut before turning to smile at Lucy 'Right then. Home'

I felt bad about keeping him from his other duties, which were obviously more important than driving a snivelling teenage girl home, 'Lestrade, I'm sorry if I'm keeping you from your other important matters' He gave a low chuckle, shaking his head.

'There are probably some important things that I should be doing, Lucy. But right now, I'm taking you home.'

He started the car, the radio quietly playing in background. The ten minute car ride to baker street was silent except for me humming along to the radio. When we got to Baker Street, Lestrade got out first and cam round to open my door. 'You do realise that I'm going to have to tell your dad, don't you?'

'No please don't!' I begged 'He's always worried about me, and this will always make him worse.'

Lestrade looked torn with what to do. 'Okay.' was all he said

I reached up on my tip toes to give him a light peck on the cheek, 'Thank you, Greg'

'Anytime kiddo.' Was he blushing? 'Now go on, get out of here.' he joked as he got back into his car and quickly drove away. As he left I turned and skipped over to Charles and gave him a peck on the cheek too.

'What was that for?' As if he didn't know!

'You didn't think I'd leave you out now did you?' I beamed at him and faked a swoon 'My knight in shining armour'

He laughed heartily, giving me a light shove 'Shut up and get up the stairs.' As we walked through the door into Baker Street, I stopped on the stairs to give him another peck.

'Thank you Charles. I don't know what he would have done if you weren't there.'

'But nothing happened Lucy, that's the main thing.' He pulled me in for a strong hug. We stayed there holding each other for a while before he moved to hold me at arms length. 'Now hurry up, Sherlock will be getting impatient.' He closed the door loudly behind him, and we ascended the stairs into the flat.

* * *

**Hey guys, this was the hardest chapter for me to write, I know how serious this topic is and I tried my best to handle it delicately. I'm so sorry if it upset anyone.**

**Anyway thanks to everyone who's been reading, I haven't been getting many reviews, I'd love to know what everyone thinks!**

**-Watson'sGirl-**


	9. Chapter 9

**Reminder - I own nothing. Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. I only own the OC's (Lucy, Charles and Alex.)**

**Wow three chapters in one day! And this one is a super long chapter this time, to get the story moving a bit quicker!**

**There's a bit of cheesy Sherlock/Lucy fluff here. Mushy but aww.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 9

**CHARLES**

Reaching the door to the flat, I pushed it open, and ushered Lucy inside, only to find Sherlock and John hunched over a pink suitcase - Jennifer Wilson's supposedly.

'Well, the question is: where is her phone _now_?' Sherlock was quizzing John who was reclining in his armchair looking slightly confused.

'She could have lost it.' John said. His face scrunched slightly as he sniffed up. I joined him, sniffing the air around the flat, you cold clearly smell the alcohol the had spilled down the front of Lucy's brown jumper, it was till damp so the smell was stronger. Not wanting either John or Sherlock to find out what had happened, I gave her a subtle nudged before looking down at her jumpers, signalling to her to go and get changed, understanding my signals she quickly ran upstairs to the flat above to get changed out of her soggy clothes. I turned and walked over to sit by John and Sherlock as they still examined the suitcase.

'So' I joined in. 'you think that the murderer has her phone?'

'Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone.' Sherlock replied, still looking into the case.

'Sorry, what are we doing? Did I just text a murderer?! What good will _that_ do?' As if on cue, John's phone begins to ring. He picks it up and looks at the screen for the Caller I.D, and sees that it is withheld, he looks across the room to Sherlock as the phone continues to ring.

'A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just _found_ that phone they'd ignore a text like that, but the murderer...' He pauses dramatically for a moment until the phone stops ringing. '...would panic.' he flipped the case lid shut and jumped from his seat.

'Have you talked to the police?'

'Four people are dead. There isn't time to talk to the police.'

'So why are you talking to _me_?'

Sherlock reaches behind the door to take his greatcoat from the hook. As he looks across towards John he must have noticed that something is missing from the mantelpiece. 'Hudson took my skull.'

'So I'm basically filling in for your skull?' Sighed John.

'Relax, you're doing fine.' Sherlock said, pulling his coat on.

The three of us head out the door and make our way down the stairs, John is last out the flat, pulling the door closed behind him, he shouts up the stairs to Lucy - 'Lucy come on, we're going out!'

Seconds later she came running down the stairs after us, wearing a cream knitted knee-length pencil skirt, with black tights that had a thick black line trailing up the back of her legs, a bottle green puffy blouse and brown ankle wedge boots, she had a short black toggled winter coat, with matching dog-tooth patterned scarf, bobble hat and fingerless mittens. Glancing at her legs, I saw that there were faint finger shaped bruises were beginning to form on the backs of her legs, I held the door open for her and she ducked under my arm, smiling at me, and headed out onto the busy night-time streets of central London.

* * *

**LUCY**

We were walking down the high street, Sherlock was taking us somewhere, Angelo's I think it was, he, John and Charles were walking slightly ahead talking about the case as I walked behind taking in the city's night life. Sherlock grabs my arm, making me jump and pulls me back so we are walking further behind my dad and Charles. 'Lestrade told me what happened.' I just looked at him. 'Are you okay?' I nod, not wanting to have this conversation. 'What Alex did to you wasn't right and he had no right to do it.'

I don't know why, but I turned cold towards him, I wasn't sure if he is being sincere or not 'Why would you care?' I snapped 'You don't seem to like me very much. In fact I'd say that you hate me' As soon as the words were out in the open, I covered my mouth, regretting it. I lifted my head enough to see a brief look of hurt flash across his face as he sighs and awkwardly puts and arm around my shoulders, giving me a one-armed hug.

'It's true that I am not particularly fond of your presence in the flat, but I don't hate you. Even if I did, I would never wish you harm.'

Okay, now I felt bad, he was being nice to her even after she had been so horrible to him just then, and this morning, she suddenly remembered. She had slapped him this morning, fair enough he was being a dick, but she still felt she should apologise. 'I'm sorry for snapping at you. And slapping you this morning.' I barely managed a whisper.

'Already forgotten.' he smiled. 'I guess I should also apologise for my actions too'

'Yeah, what was up with that?' I laughed, remembering how amazed and amused by his deduction this morning.

'You could say I was jealous.' He looked down at the feet 'Charles has never gotten that much attention from anyone, apart from me. You could say I was kind of scared that he wasn't going to care for my attention any longer, now he has you as a friend.' he removed his arm from my shoulders and straightened his coat. 'Pathetic' he mumbled to himself, but it was loud enough for me to hear. I reached out and grabbed his arm before he had a chance to walk away.

'Tonight, I was just grateful that Charles was there or I don't know if I would have been strong enough to defend myself' I released his coats sleeve, smoothing out the creases I'd created. 'You're lucky to have a son like him, and he's lucky to have a dad like you.'

Just like I'd done with Lestrade and Charles, I gave him a peck on the cheek, I had to jump this time as his 6" frame towered over my 5"6 one. He didn't get a chance to say or do anything about it before I was dragging him down the street with me, as I ran full speed to catch up with John and Charles, the two of them were to deep in conversation to even acknowledge that they hade even been gone. The rest of the walk was done in silence.

* * *

**CHARLES**

At Angelo's, we all sit at a table of four and all start to look through the menu's, all apart from Sherlock. 'Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes on it.'

'He isn't just going to ring the doorbell, though, is he? He'd need to be mad.' John said, still looking through the menu.

'Well, he _has_ killed four people.' Angelo, the owner of the restaurant come walking over, clearly pleased to see Sherlock, he takes his and shaking it laughing.

'Sherlock, good to see you. Anything you want, on the house for you and your date.' He was now looking at me, winking.

'I'm not his date.' John said at the same time as I said 'She's not my date.'

He completely ignored us 'This man got me off a murder charge.'

'This is Angelo' Sherlock signalled towards John, who Angelo had offered his hand to, John takes it politely shaking it. He then turned to smile at Lucy before taking her hand and kissing it gently.

'And who is this lovely young lady.' Lucy blushed, I found it cute. 'She can't possible be any relation to you Sherlock, far too beautiful.'

'I'm Lucy. John's daughter.' She said

'Of course.' He turns to John 'She looks just like you sir.' he said dropping her hand, before nudging me and winking again. 'Well done lad.'

'Three years ago I successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking.' Sherlock explained.

'He cleared my name.'

'I cleared it a _bit_. Anything happening opposite?'

'Nothing.' He looked at John 'But for this man, I'd have gone to prison.'

'You _did_ go to prison.'

'I'll get a candle for the table. It's more romantic.' Angelo said looking at John and then back to me

'I'm not his date! John shouted indignantly as Angelo walked away.

'You three may as well eat. We might have a long wait.' Sherlock said pushing his menu further away from him. Angelo came back shortly after with a small glass bowl containing a lit tea-light. He put it onto the table and gave John and me a thumbs-up before turning and walking away again.

'Thanks(!)'

John and Sherlock sat having their own conversation, which weirdly sounded like John was asking him out, where as me and Lucy swapped childhood stories, mainly about school until our meals came, then we sat and ate in a peaceful silence. About five minutes passed before Sherlock suddenly piped up.

'Look across the street. Taxi' I twisted in my seat to look out of the window, where a taxi was parked at the side of the road with its back-end towards the restaurant.

'Stopped. Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out.' In the rear seat of the taxi, a passenger, a man was looking through the side windows as if trying to see somebody particular. 'Why a taxi?' He was talking to himself 'Oh, that's clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?'

'That's him?' John asked

'Don't stare'

'You're staring.'

'We can't both stare.' He said getting to his feet, as he grabs his coat and scarf and heads for the door. Me, Lucy and John do the same following him. Outside the door, Sherlock shrugs himself into his coat while he kept his eyes fixed on the taxi. The passenger continued to look around him, he then turned and looked out the back window, his gaze falling on the restaurant and he looks at it for a few moments while Sherlock stares back at him, the man turned to face the front of the vehicle and the taxi begins to pull away from the kerb. Sherlock immediately begins to head towards it without bothering to check the road that he's running into and is almost run over by a car coming from his left. The driver was quick to slam on the brakes and stops the car but Sherlock, was too keen to take the quickest route, allows himself to walk into the car, rolling onto the top of the car and over the bonnet, landing on his feet on the other side and then starts running after the taxi. The driver of the car angrily sounds his horn as the three of us cross the road after him, John puts one hand on the bonnet, vaulting over the front of the car while me and Lucy run round, as he apologies to the driver. We chase after Sherlock, who had ran a few yards up the road before realising that he had no chance of catching the taxi and had slowed to a halt, the three of us catch up and stop to stand beside him.

'I've got the cab number.' John sad, slightly out of breath.

'Good for you.' Sherlock commented bringing his hands up to either side of his head deep in concentration. I did the same calling up a mental map of the local area and overlaying it with images of the streets along the route which I use to calculate the route that the taxi must be taking.

'Right turn, one way, road works, traffic lights, bus lane, pedestrian crossing, left turn only, traffic lights.' I rambled off to myself. Having worked out the route, I lift my head and see Sherlock and John already running towards a man who was busy unlocking the door to a nearby building. Instantly inside my mind, a signpost saying flashes up saying, "ALTERNATIVE ROUTE" I grab Lucy's arm as we run after Sherlock ad John who have already raced towards the man and grabbing him and shoving him out-of-the-way before charging into the building. 'Oi!'

We catch up with them and the four of us race up the stairs and out onto a metal spiral fire escape staircase leading to the roof. Sherlock, being the lanky git that he is takes the steps two or even three at a time as the rest of us struggle to keep up with him as he scurries away. 'Come on, John.'

Reaching the top of the stairs, my hold on Lucy still tight, I can hear her breathing heavily behind me. We run to the edge and Sherlock looks over before seeing a shorter metal spiral staircase leading down the side of the building to another door one floor lower. He motions for us to follow as he gallops down the stairs and climbs onto the railing before leaping across the gap to the next building. John scrambled onto the railing and follows, with me and Lucy hot on his heels. We then run across to the other side of the roof and again leaps across to the next building. John skids to a halt, realising that the gap may be too big for him to jump across. I also abruptly come to a halt, causing Lucy to crash into my back with a grunt. John hesitates, looking down at the drop beneath him 'Come on. We're losing him!' I watched as John backed up a few paces and braced himself for the jump, he takes a run-up and leaps across the gap. I quickly follow him, bounding up the ledge before leaping across landing crouched on my feet, I turn to somehow help Lucy across, but find her already sprint full speed towards the ledge before pouncing into the air, she lands on the roof, hard on her ankle, giving a scream of pain before skidding on her knees, tearing the material of her tights away exposing her skin to the hard gravel. Running over to help her, I can see that both of her knees have no skin left on them as well as tiny pieces of gravel sticking to her blood, I put one arm around her waist before grabbing hers and pulled it over my shoulder, making myself into a human crutch. 'This is just not your day Luce'. I carefully but briskly pulled her along and we manage to catch up with them as the taxi drive past the end of the alleyway, heading to the left.

'Ah, no!' Without breaking stride, they raced, as I pulled a hobbling Lucy, out of the end of the alley and turn to the right 'This way.' Instinctively John had turned left in pursuit of the taxi. 'No, this way!'

'Sorry.' I heard John should before seeing him sprint back across the alley way opening, following Sherlock. In my mind-map, I pick a new point where we could intercept the cab. Catching up with them we ran down the street, taking a shorter route than the taxi which would now be in the process of being diverted by various road signs forcing it to take a longer way around, Heading down more alleyways and side streets towards the interception point in Wardour Street and finally, at the precise point which my mental map predicted, Sherlock race out of a side street and hurled himself into the path of the approaching cab, which screeched to a halt as he crashes hard into the bonnet. Scrabbling in his left coat pocket, Sherlock pulled out an I.D. badge and flashed it at the driver as he runs round to the right hand side of the cab.

'Police! Open her up!' He said panting heavily, he tugged open the rear door and stares in at the passenger, who is looking back at him anxiously. Sherlock instantly straightened up in exasperation just as John reached him, followed by me and a limping Lucy who is in obvious pain. 'No.' He leans down again to look at the passenger a second time. 'Teeth, tan: what – Californian?' He looked at something on the floor in front of the passenger. 'L.A., Santa Monica. Just arrived.' He straightened up again, grimacing.

'How can you possibly know that?' John asked.

'The luggage.' He looks back down at the suitcase on the floor of the cab and sees the luggage label showing that the man has flown from LAX London Heathrow Airport 'It's probably your first trip to London, right, going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?'

'Sorry – are you guys the police?'

'Yeah. He flashed the I.D. badge briefly at the man. 'Everything all right?'

'Yeah.'

'Welcome to London.' He immediately walks away, leaving the rest of us staring blankly for a moment before John steps closer to the taxi door and looks in at the passenger

'Er, any problems, just let us know.' As the man nods, John smiles politely and slams the cab door shut. The man looks round to the taxi driver in bewilderment. The cab drives off slowly, and John turns to me and Lucy as she gives a low groan. 'Oh my god, Lucy, what the hell happened?!' He said rushing towards her, his doctors instincts kicking in as he examined her knees. 'Are you okay?'

'Yeah, just swell.' She said sarcastically 'I've got no skin left on my knees, but other than that I'm bloody fantastic'

'We need to get you home and get that cleaned and bandaged up, before it gets infected' I watch John as he walks to where Sherlock has stopped a few yards behind the vehicle. Forgetting about them I turn my attention back to Lucy who I grunting in pain with each step, her knees and shin now matted with blood, dirt and gravel.

'Well this is a first' she laughed through heavy breaths and groans of pain 'I've never done that on a date before' She said winking at me.

I smiled, chuckling 'That's because you've never had one with me before.' I winked back being cheeky.

'Maybe'

I gently led her over to Sherlock and John, who were looking down the road to where a police officer had apparently gone to investigate why the cab had stopped in the middle of the road. The passenger was standing next to the cab and was pointing down the road towards the us.

'Got your breath back?' Sherlock asked.

'Ready when you are.' John replied and the turned, running off down the road, completely forgetting us. I sighed, pulling Lucy along with me as we tried to keep up with them, we eventually gave up after Lucy fell for the third time and hailed a cab. Upon getting to Baker Street, I remembered that Sherlock had the keys, so we sat on the steps outside and waited for them to get home. Lucy had her back against the railings of the stairs and I pulled her legs up across mine, to stop the blood flow, not caring that her blood was staining, my clothes. It was late, probably around 11:30 maybe 11:45 and I was physically drained, and so was Lucy as she was now asleep against the railings, her face emotionless and beautiful. I didn't want her to hurt he back so I moved to sit next to, leaning against to railings. I pulled her into my lap, not caring who saw, she rested her head against my shoulder with her arms wrapped around my shoulders. I was still holding her legs over mine as she fell back asleep, I tried to stay awake for Sherlock and John getting home, but I was far too comfy and I soon joined Lucy, resting my head against hers as I drifted into a well needed slumber.

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**Wow that chapter was long. I uploaded three, mainly because I'm super busy a college so I don't know when I'll be able to upload. That being said, I'll probably upload early on next week, I'm just having too much fun writing this because Charles and Lucy are just so god damn cute!**

**Thanks to all my readers and reviewers :)!**

**-Watson'sGirl-**


	10. Chapter 10

**Reminder - I own nothing. Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. I only own the OC's (Lucy, Charles and Alex.)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 10

**CHARLES**

I don't know how much passed since falling asleep outside of Baker Street, before I felt someone gently shaking me, I tried to swat them away whilst mumbling something incoherent, but who ever it was, was persistent. When I did eventually open my eyes, I was surprised to find it was still dark, so I knew that no more than two hours could have passed since we left the restaurant. The hands that were once shaking my shoulders had ceased and were now resting on them, I stood, expecting to see Sherlock, but found it to be John instead, his hands gripping my shoulders. Behind him I could see Sherlock with his back to us, the one person I couldn't see was Lucy, I looked back down to where we were huddled no more than two minutes ago. So where was she? I turned back to Sherlock and saw what I had failed to before, dangling over his right arm was a pair of legs matted with blood both old and new, along with crusted dirt and gravel. He turned slightly as he skilfully fumbling rounding his pocket for his keys, as he balanced a still sleeping Lucy across his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. I looked down at her ankle, having to bottle a gasp, her once tanned ankle is now practically black as a large bruise has overtaken her skin and is slowly spreading up her leg, it looked extremely painful, I cringed as I saw that her ankle was not in its proper place, it was dangling around at a rather obscure angle, obviously broken. Ignoring the small pool of blood with had formed directly underneath her feet, I assisted Sherlock and moved to his side to pull his keys from his pocket before unlocking the front door, I held it open as Sherlock turned his body to the side as not to hit Lucy with the door frame, I waited for John to enter before closing the door. Completely exhausted, I fall back against the wall, leaning side by side with John.

'Chasing that cab, that was probably the most ridiculous thing I've ever done.' He laughed

'And you've invaded Afghanistan.' I replied, my eyes still closed.

'That wasn't just me.' He said laughing 'Why aren't we back at the restaurant?'

'Oh they can keep an eye out there, it was kind of a long shot.' I waved my hand dismissively. 'And she couldn't have lasted any longer on that ankle.' I flicked my hand, signalling to the upstairs flat.

'Yeah. Thanks for that by the way, Charles.' He became very serious for a moment. 'I'm glad you were looking after her.' He patted my shoulder. 'So what were we even doing at the restaurant?'

'Probably just passing time. And proving a point.'

'What point?'

'You.' I headed for the stairs. 'I guess you'll be taking the room upstairs now then?'

'Says who?'

'Says the man at the door.' John turned his head towards the door just as someone knocked on it three times, he stares at him for a moment before cautiously walking along the hall to answer the door, opening it he finds Angelo standing outside staring down in horror at the puddle of blood.

'Sherlock texted me.' He looked up from the floor as he extended his arm to reveal John's walking cane, the one he had abandoned at the restaurant in pursuit of the cab. 'He said you forgot this.'

John stared at the cane in surprise. 'Ah, thank you. Thank you.' As he came back in and closed the door, Mrs Hudson rushed from her flat and scampered over to us, looking tearful.

'Boys, what have you done?'

'Mrs Hudson?'

'Upstairs.' I turned and hurried up the stairs, John following, opening the living room door, I found Sherlock leaning over Lestrade, who was sitting casually in the armchair facing the door, as other police officers siphon through Sherlock's possessions.

'You set up a fake drug bust, just to _bully _me?!' Sherlock spat, at the same time he looked down seeing that Lucy had jolted awake, gasping. He gently manoeuvred her so he could set her on her feet, muttering his apologizes as he did so. Forgetting the state of her ankle, he took on step before stumbling, causing her to fall forward, only to be caught by John. 'I'll take her to the kitchen and check her over.' he said, holding her tightly as he led her through the archway and into the kitchen.

'Any developments?' Sherlock asked Lestrade

'We found Rachel. Jennifer Wilson's only daughter.'

'Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name?' He waved his hand silencing everyone 'You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. _I_ need to question her'

'She'd dead.'

'Excellent. How when and why. Is there a connection, there has to be!'

'Well, I doubt it, since she's been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter.' I grimaced sadly and turned away, Sherlock, on the other hand, just looked confused.

'No, that's ... that's not right. How ... Why would she do that? Why?' He was interrupted by a loud crash in the kitchen followed by shrill screaming.

'No! Get away from me!' Sherlock, Lestrade and I bolted towards the kitchen, to find John struggling to restrain a hysterical Lucy, who was thrashing about on the table to, the bandages covering her knees, were ever so beginning to turn a scarlet red colour. I looked over to the corner, where there was movement and quick shuffling, and I turned to see Anderson pulling Alex of the floor. My blood was boiling and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, what had that bastard done to her now? 'Lucy calm down!' John was desperately trying to hold her arm still and she flayed them about in the air, narrowly missing his face with her nails. Lestrade was the first to act, running over to help John, he grabbed he arm mid air before it had a chance to strike anyone. 'Get away! No!' she continued to scream, I wanted to intervene but Sherlock's sturdy hand was holding me back. Once both of her arms were restrained by Lestrade, John crouched to her level and cupped her face in his hands, but she was still screaming and shouting, kicking her legs about. 'Lucy, baby, it's okay. It's me, it's dad.' As he sais this the kicking ceased and the room was silent, apart from the heavy breathing of Lucy as she gulped in air. She lifted her head as John pushed her wild hair out of her face and wiped her eyes, he nodded to Lestrade to drop her arms, and as he did she launched herself at John, hugging him tightly. 'Alright, everyone get back to work.' Lestrade ordered his officers, who were all staring wide eyed at the tiny girl, some had even backed away and hidden. Alex, who had up until now been restrained by Anderson, was now dusting himself off and was walking towards Lucy and John, 'What the hell was that for!' he was screaming at her, pointing his finger in her face. Shoving John to the side and into Lestrade, she lunged at Alex pinning him to the floor as she straddled him, lashing out, punching his chest and slapping his face, it took the strength of both John and Lestrade to drag her off him, as Anderson pulled Alex away and to his feet.

'Lucy! What the hell is wrong with you?!' John scolded her as if she were a small child again. She said nothing, she stared at him, her bottom lip trembling and her eyes flitting from person to person.

'The psycho bitch is crazy, that's what's the matter with her!' Alex spat, only to receive glares and shouts of disgust from multiple people.

Lestrade gingerly cleared his throat before leaning in to speak 'Perhaps I should explain. Well, earlier tonight I got a call from Charles saying that Alex was acting inappropriately towards Lucy, I got there to find Alex knocked out against the wall because Charles had needed to 'restrain' him'.' Lestrade explained to John, who was getting angrier by the second as Lestrade explained the gory details of the events earlier that evening, without looking he spoke in a low hushed tone. 'Get out. Alex.' When Alex didn't move, he slowly turned his head to the side to stare at Lestrade, 'Greg, get him out, or I'll kill him.' not saying a word, Lestrade nodded and motioned for Anderson to escort Alex out of the flat. Once he was gone and Sherlock and Lestrade had gone back into the living room to continue with the case, I watched as John suddenly pulled Lucy in for another vice like hug.

'Why didn't say you tell me?'

'I'm okay dad. It's fine' She reassured him, whilst pushing him away.

'No it's not fine.' He was serious now, looking right into her eyes. 'God knows what could have happened to you.'

'Well it's a good thing the Charles was there then wasn't it?' John spun round to look at me, I was still leaning against the wall of the archway, my hands stuffed awkwardly into my pockets. He was about to say something when Sherlock started bellowing at Mrs Hudson in the living room, sighing I walked back into the living room, followed by John and Lucy. By the time we got to the living room, Sherlock was silent, staring at the wall, his face a mask of concentration, while Lestrade was busy fussing about tracking the mobile phone and using map references. Mrs Hudson was standing at the door, the poor woman was practically shaking after being on the receiving end of Sherlock's frustrated rage. Behind her, however, I saw a older man reach the top of the stairs, before standing still - he was wearing a badge for a licenced London cab driver, in a leather holder on a cord around his neck, ignoring him I turned my attention back to those in the living room. Sherlock, who was now staring down at his phone, looked up suddenly towards the door leading downstairs; in a few swift movements he was heading towards the door with his coat on, tying his scarf around his neck.

'Where are you going?' Lucy asked before he got to the door.

'Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won't be long.' She frowned as he left the room, before calling after him.

'You sure you're all right?'

'I'm fine.' The conversation ended as his voice trailed off down the stairs and out the front door, slamming it behind him.

* * *

**LUCY**

Something wasn't right, I could tell. What could have been so important that required Sherlock to 'pop outside' in the middle of a case, and since when did he need 'fresh air'? Following Sherlock's example I limped to grab my coat, before quickly running out of the room after him, pulling my hat and scarf on simultaneously, ignoring the confused questions of those in the flat. I skipped down the stairs two at a time ignoring the throbbing pain in my ankle, reaching the door in seconds and flung it open to find Sherlock standing by a taxi, quietly talking to someone. 'Sherlock?'

Stopping mid conversation, but not turning to face me, he waved his hand, motioning to me to leave, 'Get back inside.'

Completely ignoring his command, I marched up to the taxi and stood by him, grabbing his arm and pulling him round to face me, 'What are you doing?'

'I said get back inside' His voice was low and dark as he all but growled at me, his piercing eyes burrowing into me. I stood my ground, not giving in.

'No!' I hadn't realised that I was shouting at him, standing on my tip toes, attempting to make myself taller. He placed his hands on my shoulder, pushing me back to my normal height before moving them to grasp the top of my arms. 'I don't _need_ your help. Go inside. Now.' Although his voice was barely a whisper it still hurt.

'You don't get to order me around Sherlock!

'Lucy...'

'No Sherlock, for once listen! I am reaching out to you, and yet you still can't set your pride aside for more than a second when all I want to do is help!' I could feel my eyes burning wit anger and hot, salty tears. 'God, I feel sorry for yo...ARGH!' I screamed as the taxi driver snuck up behind me, grabbing me before aggressively shoving his hand towards my neck, I felt a sharp prick as the point of the needle pierced through my skin, hitting my vein. I flung my hands up to push him away, but I found that Sherlock already had a hold of him, pushing him against the taxi by his shirt collar, my vision began to blur and could feel my legs beginning to buckle as stepped forward, throwing my arms out, desperately trying to grab onto the nearest thing, which happened to be Sherlock. My limbs felt like lead as I slapped my hands against his back trying to grab his jacket, but it was no use, I stumbled backwards pulling him with me as I tripped over my own feet before tumbling face first towards the ground. I heard the crack of my skull on the steps of Baker Street before I felt the pain explode across my head, the fire of the drug spreading through my veins like a wildfire, I lay there bleeding for a few seconds before my vision blurred completely and the darkness took over.

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**It took me a little longer the write this than I hoped, but its here none the less. I think there is going to be two more chapters left in this story, I'm actually really happy with how this story turned out!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Watson'sGirl-**


	11. Chapter 11

**Reminder - I own nothing. Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. I only own the OC's (Lucy, Charles and Alex.)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 11

**SHERLOCK**

'See? No-one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like you're invisible. Just the back of an 'ead. Proper advantage for a serial killer.' his voice was slightly sinister in my ear, as I was on my knees beside Lucy's unconscious form, who was bleeding very heavily, from the already bruising, aggressive gash just above her eye, that extended through her thick eyebrow.

'Is this a confession?'

'I didn't kill those four people, Mr. 'olmes. I spoke to 'em and they killed themselves. And if you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing.' He leaned forward, peering over my shoulder. 'I will never tell you what I said.' I stared at him, after a moment, he straightened up and started to walk around the front of the cab.

'No-one else will die, though, and I believe they call that a result.' He stopped in his tracks and turned back towards me.

'And you won't ever understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care about?' He turned again and continued walking around to the driver's door. Getting in, he sat down and closed the door, and settled into his seat. I stood from my crouched place and walked to the cab, quickly looking up at the flat windows making sure nobody was watching, I then bent downwards and looked into the open side window of the cab.

'If I wanted to understand, what would I do?'

'Let me take you for a ride.'

'So you can kill me too?'

'I don't wanna kill you, Mr. 'olmes. I'm gonna talk to yer ... and then you're gonna kill yourself. You better bring her too, don't want her bleeding all over the street. It's not a pretty sight.' He turned back to face the front again, straightening up, I considered the situation before walking and scooping Lucy up carefully, placing her head on my shoulder, trying to steady the blood flow. I moved back over the cab, and swiftly opened the door one-handed, before gently resting Lucy on the back seats, giving her the full three seats, I hopped in soundless, sitting in the seats directly behind the driver and slammed the door in a clear signal to the driver to start the car.

'How did you find me?' I asked after a few short minutes of driving. I was sitting to the side, talking through the glass, but at the same time I made sure that I had one arm extended outwards to stop Lucy from rolling off the seats as we drove through the busy London streets.

'Oh, I recognised yer, soon as I saw you chasing my cab. Sherlock 'olmes! Was that yer son with you? Strapping lad if you don't mind me saying so.'

'He gets it from his mother.' I retorted trying to keep Charles out of this, he doesn't need to be involved in this, there was already one unconscious teenager in my care, I was in no rush to see her joined by another. 'Was drugging her really necessary?'

'I was warned about her, was told she was a feisty one.' his smirk was sickening 'I've been warned about you too, I've been on your website, too. Brilliant stuff! Loved it!'

'Who warned you about me?'

'Just someone out there who's noticed you.' He was still looking through the windscreen mirror

'Who?' I pressed on, leaning forward noticing a photograph of a young boy and girl attached to the dashboard of the cab. 'Who would notice _me_?'

'You're too modest, Mr. 'olmes.' his eyes briefly met mine in the rear view mirror.

I chuckled 'I'm really not.'

JEFF: You've got yourself a fan.

'Tell me more.' I said nonchalantly, resting back into my seat.

'That's all you're gonna know...' he paused dramatically for a moment '...in _this_ lifetime.' The cab drove on and we finally stop at the front of two identical buildings side by side, the cabbie turned off the engine and exited the cab, coming to the passenger door and opening it, looking in.

'Where are we?'

'You know every street in London.' he said grinning 'You know _exactly_ where we are.'

'Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why here?'

'It's open; cleaners are in. One thing about being a cabbie: you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out.' He had a point.

'And you just walk your victims in? How?' The cabbie rose his arm to show a pistol in his hand and pointed it at me, how cliché. I rolled my eyes and turned my head away. 'Oh, dull.'

The cabbie couldn't help but laugh 'Don't worry. It gets better.'

'You can't make people take their own lives at gunpoint.'

'I don't. It's better than that.' He lowered the gun as he spoke, resting it by his side 'Don't need this with you, 'cause you'll follow me. Get the girl' He rose the gun again, its aim coming to land on Lucy before he confidently walked away, I sat for a moment before grimacing in exasperation at myself as I pulled Lucy's body to rest on my lap and chest. Doing just what he predicted I would do, I got out of the cab an followed the man. He led us through the dark building, along its badly lit corridors and past many rooms, before finally stopping outside the only lit room in the entire building. He opened the door to the room and stood aside, giving me room to enter with Lucy, I looked at him closely but stepped inside the room anyway, he then released the door letting it swing closed. The classroom was fairly large with long fixed wooden benches and plastic chairs, I walked deeper into the room, looking around. 'Well, what do you think?' I shrugged as if the ask 'What do I think about what?'

'It's up to you. You're the one whose gonna die 'ere.'

'No, I'm not.' I turned back to face him, grunting slightly, as I manoeuvred Lucy into a comfier position, she wasn't too heavy but my arms were not used to carrying extra weight.

'That's what they all say.' He gestured to one of the benches. 'Put her down.' I did what he said, but not before removing her hat from her head and using it to cushion her head. 'Shall we talk?' Without waiting for a reply, he pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, I followed taking a chair from the bench in front, flipping it around and sitting down opposite him, sighing dramatically.

'Bit risky, wasn't it? Took me away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen. They're not _that_ stupid. And Mrs Hudson will remember you.'

'You call that a risk? Nah.' He reached into the left pocket of his cardigan._ '__This_ is a risk.' He took out a small glass bottle with a silver screw top on it and placed it onto the table in front of me, inside there was a single large capsule, I looked at it but didn't react in any way. 'Ooh, I like this bit. 'Cause you don't get it yet, do yer? But you're about to. I just have to do this.' Reaching into his pocket for a second time, he took out another bottle, identical to the previous, containing an identical capsule and again placed it onto the table beside the first bottle. 'You weren't expecting that, were yer?' He leaned forward. 'Ooh, you're going to love this.'

'Love what?' he sat back again 'Sherlock 'olmes. Look at you! 'Ere in the flesh. That website of yours: your fan told me about it.'

'My fan?'

'You are brilliant. You _are_. A proper genius. "The Science of Deduction." Now that is _proper_ thinking. Between you and me sitting 'ere, why can't people think?' He looked down angrily. 'Don't it make you mad? Why can't people just _think_?' He looked up again and I returned his gaze, looking back at him for a long moment, my eyes narrowed before making a realisation.

'Oh, _I_ see. So you're a proper genius _too_.' My voice was dripping with sarcasm.

'Don't look it, do I? Funny little man drivin' a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chances are it'll be the last thing you _ever_ know.' I held his gaze for a second or two, then looked down to the table. 'Oh hello sweetheart.' I spun round to see that Lucy had now regained conscience and was half sitting up, half lying down, the left hand side of her face was completely matted with blood and some of her sandy ringlets had become stuck to her jaw line, in little wisps. She began to panic, looking round at the unfamiliar room, before fully sitting up to lean against the table, as the taxi extended his arm across the table to stroke the gash on her forehead. 'That was a nasty bang to the head you had there.'

'Leave her.' I snapped, as she swatted his and away. 'Okay, two bottles. Explain.'

'There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, you live; take the pill from the bad bottle, you die.' I heard Lucy give a sharp gasp before silencing herself by putting her hand over her dry and chapped lips.

'Both bottles are of course identical. And only you know which is which.'

'Well, course _I_ know.'

'But I don't.'

He scoffed 'Wouldn't be a game if _you_ knew. You're the one who chooses.'

'Why should I? I've got nothing to go on. What's in it for me?'

'I 'aven't told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one – and then, together, we take our medicine.' I started to grin, now I was interested.

'Sherlock you can't!' Lucy exclaimed, leaping over to me, grabbing my arm tightly.

'Don't fret love. I won't cheat.' He turned back to me 'It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you don't.' I looked down at the two bottles, concentrating properly now. 'Didn't expect _that_, did you, Mr. 'olmes?'

'This is what you did to the rest of them: you gave them a choice.'

'And now I'm givin' _you_ one.'

'You're not seriously considering this are you! Sherlock?' I remained silent. 'You're not taking that pill'

'Of course he's not Miss Watson' I glanced up at him, how did he know her name, and if he knew hers, then surely he knows Johns. And Charles'. 'Because you are.' He licked his lips in anticipation, as he stared at Lucy, whose hand still remained clasped around my arm, was shaking violently, as his left hand slid the left-hand bottle across the table towards her, he licked his top lip as he pulled his hand back leaving the bottle where it was. 'Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one.'

* * *

**CHARLES**

As soon as John and I had realised that Sherlock wasn't coming back and Lucy was missing, we grabbed the laptop which was tracking Jennifer Wilson's phone and high tailed it out of the flat in search for a taxi. After fifteen minutes of John shouting directions at the driver, who was rather reluctant to take a passenger who didn't know where they were going, we arrived at Roland-Kerr College. As the taxi pulled away, John tucked the notebook away into his jacket as I looked at the two identical buildings in front of us surveying them. The map clearly wasn't precise enough to indicate exactly where inside the building the phone was.

'You check that side, and I'll do this one' I ordered as I started to jog towards the building on the right, I made it no more than two feet before John pulled me back by my forearm.

'There is a killer in that building and you want to go charging in unarmed?!' He was serious, glaring at me for a moment before releasing my arm. 'We stick together.' I nodded in agreement and we both took off, sprinting towards the building. We were running through the corridors mindlessly, John was calling out every few seconds, failing to get a response each time. 'Sherlock?' We ran from door to door, trying them all, and peering in through windows. 'Sherlock!' I bursts through a door, followed by John and stared ahead of me as I finally saw who I was hoping would not be here, my whole body filled with horror, as inside the classroom opposite was Lucy, I could only see half of her face as the panelling of the window was obscuring my view. She lifted her gaze from the empty bottle she was holding, and I saw the large white pill she was rolling between her thumb and forefinger, her lips were trembling and she was shaking violently. Almost the whole of the left hand side of her face was caked with blood and sweat as she sobbed into her scarf. Before I even knew what I was doing, I was banging on the window. 'LUCY!' At the same time I heard John next to me shout in exactly the same way, but he wasn't shouting of Lucy. 'SHERLOCK!'

Sherlock? We both whirled round, staring at us in shock, before I realised, the panelling on the window had made it impossible for me to see Sherlock, it had also made it impossible for John the see Lucy, thank god, he could only see Sherlock and the cabbie. I turned back to the window in time to see Lucy put her hand up to her mouth, placing the pill between her teeth and squeeze her eyes shut. She wouldn't, would she? I needed to tell John, she was his daughter after all, but upon turning I saw he was in firing stance aiming his pistol across to the window opposite, preparing to fire.

* * *

**LUCY**

This is it. I'm going to die. The pill was filled with cyanide and would surely kill me in seconds, it shouldn't be too painful should it? I waited for the cabbie to order me to bite the pill, I re-opened my teary eyes to look at the cabbie, who is pointing the gun at Sherlock to prevent him from making any sudden movements. The cabbie was doing exactly the same as I was, he was holding the pill between his teeth, preparing to bite it at any second. I shifted my glance over to Sherlock, who was just simply staring back at me, with no flicker of emotion. Did he even care?

'Are you ready?' The cabbie asked pushing the pill to the side of his mouth to speak. I whimpered, beginning to cry again. 'Don't worry love, it's just a game.' Before I had a chance to do anything, a gunshot rang out and I saw Sherlock vault over the table towards me, as a bullet flew through the window and impacted the cabbie's chest, close to his heart, then went through his body, smashing into the door behind him. Expecting to feel the pain of a bullet or the splintering of glass I flinched and crouched to the ground, I felt no pain. I opened my eyes and lifted my head from my hands and was met by Sherlock's dark blue scarf, as I stood up I realised that he had leapt across the table and pulled my back to his chest, using himself as a human shield. As the cabbie fell to the floor, Sherlock released his grasp, and slid over the desk behind him hurrying to the window, bending down to stare through the bullet hole in the glass. I could see that the window of the opposite room is open but there is nobody in sight, the shooter had run. As Sherlock straightened up, the cabbie began breathing heavily as cough racked through his body. As Sherlock turned back, he looked around the room and seeing one of the pills lying on the desk as the cabbie convulses on the floor, Sherlock snatched up the pill, kneels down next to the cabbie and throws it at the cabbie, who lay in a large pool of his own blood as it ran out of him and puddled around him underneath him.

'Okay, tell me this: your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me – my 'fan'. I want a name.' Sherlock demanded, snarling.

The cabbie shook his head weakly. 'No.'

I pushed Sherlock out of the way, giving me enough space to fully stand over the injured man 'You're dying.' I spat at him, 'but there's still time to hurt you. Give me a name.' Again he shook his head, grimacing angrily, I lifted my foot an brought it down onto his shoulder, hard, causing him to gasp in pain. 'A _name_.' He didn't answer, but rather cried out in pain. '_Now.' _All he could do was whine in pain, I caught my reflection in the window opposite and saw that my face was intent and manic, I'd never seen myself so angry that it scared me slightly. Angry at myself for letting my anger get the better of me, I leant my weight onto my foot, pressing it down harder on the cabbie's shoulder, causing him to whimper. 'The _NAME!' _I spat furiously, this man had drugged and tried to kill me, of course I was furious. He gave another shriek of pain, '_MORIARTY!' _he yelled, agonised, his eyes closed as he lolled his head to the side, dead. I stepped back, turning my head to look at Sherlock, he was staring at the body beneath me, looking rather reflective. He remained like that for a few seconds, before silently mouthing to himself '_Moriarty_'

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**ARGH the second last chapter, I'm kind of nervous about what every on will think of the last one.**

**I hope people liked the switch up in this chapter, poor Lucy, it's just not her day.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading :)!**

**-Watson'sGirl-**


	12. Chapter 12

**Reminder - I own nothing. Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. I only own the OC's (Lucy, Charles and Alex.)**

**Here it is! The last chapter! It's a big one too!**

**So much Lucy/Charles fluff, but it's freaking adorable so it's okay :)!**

**I should probably as I forgot to put some info in earlier chapters, Lucy's ankle was not broken just sprained, only Charles thought it was. Alex was at Baker Street because he is Anderson's assistant, and I didn't really think about his drunken state. (Oops) And the only reason Lucy went after Sherlock is because everyone else are too focused on the case. I still haven't found a beta yet so the updates of the next story will probably be more spaced so I have enough time to proof read everything, I've just been so busy and I panicked thinking that I was going to forget the story and I really wanted to finish it...and I'm rambling aren't I?**

**Special thanks to Luinwen-2013 for the hints, I'll definitely watch out for them in the next story, and for being a dedicated follower and reviewer, your awesome!**

**Anyway, Enjoy!**

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Chapter 12

**LUCY**

'Ow!' I winced and jerked my head away from the paramedic who was trying to stitch the wound on my head. 'You're going to have to hold still miss, so can get this cleaned up.' The paramedic sighed getting annoyed, I nodded and threw him an apologetic look, I hated needles and needed to focus my mind on something other than the giant needle the man was positioning my eye. Without moving my head, I shifted my eyes so my line of vision was directly on Sherlock, who for the sixth time, had shrugged off the luminous orange blanket that the paramedics had put over his shoulders, beside him stood Lestrade, who despite become frustrated with the consulting detective, couldn't hide his amusement.

'Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me.' he motioned his hands to the blanket, which surprisingly he kept on his shoulders.

'Yeah, it's for shock.' replied Lestrade, clearly amused at much to Sherlock's disappointment.

'I'm not _in_ shock.' he retaliated, like a child.

'Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs.' Sure enough behind the police tape there was our or five different photographers all snapping pictures of us sitting in the back of the ambulance. Lestrade turned to me 'How you holding up kid?'

'Oh just dandy, Greg, apart from the twenty-five stitches being put in my head, a badly sprained ankle that means I'll be on crutches for the next four to six weeks, and two scabby knees.' Again Lestrade had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing at a child like tantrum. I received a pat on the shoulder from the paramedic, letting me know that he clearly felt my pain s he stepped away, his job finished. 'Life's great, couldn't get any better.' I shivered and pulled my shock blanket around me, holding it together under my chin with my hands.

'So, the shooter. No sign?' Sherlock asked.

'Cleared off before we got 'ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have followed him but' he shrugged 'got nothing to go on.' I sighed as Sherlock looked at him pointedly 'Oh, I wouldn't say that.' Now it was Lestrade's turn to sigh, exasperated, 'Okay, gimme.'

'The bullet they just dug out of the wall's from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of weapon – that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatised to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service...' he stopped as I was frantically tugging at his sleeve trying to get his attention, he turned to look down at me. I subtly motioned my head over to the police tape, he followed my signal, '...and nerves of steel...' he whispered to himself. I took it that he saw what I was signalling to, John was standing behind the police tape with Charles, the pair of them trying to look as innocent as possible as they shuffled on their feet, looking in every direction but ours. Sherlock must have realised the connection, 'Actually, do you know what? Ignore me.'

'Sorry?'

'Ignore all of that. It's just the, er, the shock talking.' He took off towards John and Charles.

'Where are you going?'

'I just need to talk about the-the rent.' His attempts to lie were rather pathetic.

'But I've still got questions for you.'

Sherlock turned back to Lestrade, irritated. 'Oh, what _now_? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!' I hid my face in my blanket, trying my muffle my laugh as Sherlock brandished the sides of his blanket at Lestrade, as if to prove he had one. 'Sherlock!'

'And

'I just caught you a serial killer...more or less.'

Lestrade looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, 'Okay. We'll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go.' I watched as Sherlock walked away, taking the blanket from around his shoulders and bundling it up and tossing it into a nearby police car, before ducking under the police tape. I watched the three of them engage in a brief conversation before Charles separated himself from the pair, quickly slipping under the tape and jogged over to me before any of the officers could stop him. He sat himself down next to me, 'Are you okay?'

'You know, I'm getting pretty tired of everyone asking if I'm okay. I only nearly died for crying out loud!' I swiped my crutches with my arm, knocking them on the floor out of anger as I snapped at him, I didn't mean to, I mentally kicked myself as I saw his face suddenly turn guilty.

'Sorry.' He whispered, as he knelt to pick my fallen crutches.

'No no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you.' I winced as the anaesthetic was beginning to wear off from my stitches. I flinched as Charles reached his hands up, placing one hand on the back of my head as he gently stroked the bandaged stitches with his other, his hands were freezing, causing me to shiver. The air was already cold and sharp; it didn't help that I was only wearing a skirt, tights and a thin blouse, which, looking down at myself, had blood splattered on the shoulder and down the arm, from my injury and the cabbie's. Charles smiled apologetically and removed his hand from my forehead but kept his other behind my head, gently caressing my ringlets which were covered in tiny flakes of dried blood and dirt, becoming more comfortable, I lowered my head onto his shoulder, resting it there as he continued to caringly massage the crown of my head. The shivers that were rolling over my numb body like waves had become more intense as my body shook, my teeth clenched and the circular motions that had begun to move down to my neck had ceased, 'You okay?' I gave a swift stiff nod in reply, as he moved his hand from my neck and gently lifted my head off his shoulder to hold my face gently between his gloved hands. 'Jesus Lucy, you're freezing!' Quickly, he removed his hands from my face altogether to grab the lapels of his long coat, pulling it open, he jerked his head as a signal for me to come in. 'I'm fine Charles, I'm not even cold' I laughed though gritted teeth which were chattering audibly, giving him a playful shove, I pushed myself up, forgetting the splint on my ankle, I stumbled, almost falling back over when Charles caught my underarms, and gently pushed me upright, handing me my crutches, I gave him a rather awkward smile, before walking over to Sherlock and dad, who were talking to a man in an expensive suit with an umbrella, I didn't recognise him, but Sherlock seemed to.

I slowed down to a more comfortable pace as the plastic grips around my biceps were nipping at the skin, after a few steps my arms were aching so I slowed down to almost a complete stop. I turned my head to the side slightly upon hearing what I thought was another set of footsteps on the gravel besides my own; turning fully round I stopped completely as I saw Charles running towards me, holding his coat open, I knew that I wasn't going to escape this, so I braced myself for the impact. Sure enough, not five seconds later, he slams into me, nearly knocking me onto my back and wraps his coat around her, as he giggled evilly, pulling me in further. 'Careful, Charles. I'm an invalid remember.' I tried to sound stern, but I couldn't hide my smile, I couldn't even pretend to be angry at him, he was too damn cute. The warmth that was coming from his chest was so inviting, so I snuggled even further into his embrace, trying to escape the cold, but mainly because I wanted to, suddenly he placed a soft kiss on my forehead, creating a warm flutter in the pit of my stomach. 'You were really brave tonight. You know, not many people can put up with Sherlock, or me for that matter, never mind jumping over rooftops, being drugged and almost being forced into suicide.' His mouth was resting on the top of my head, so as he spoke, his deep voice sent vibrations through my skull and down my spine. I gave a small chuckle and rubbed my nose against his warm shirt 'No, it was my own stupid fault for following him, I didn't need to.' Giving another chuckle I lifted my head to look up at him 'I never could resist a little excitement.' I could feel tears suddenly form as my chuckle turned into a choked cry, 'I honestly thought that I was going to die.' I cried quietly into his coat, grateful that there was not as many tears as I thought there would be. Pulling out of his coat, I still looking up, I saw he was staring down at me, with a hint of pride in his eyes, 'It's weird, you know, but I secretly liked it, the thrill of it all.' I stopped as he gave me a quizzical look. 'You know minus the cyanide pill part.' That got a laugh out of him 'You're a strange girl Lucy Watson.' he laughed as he pulled me back in for what I thought was another cuddle. However this time, as he pulled us together, he stooped down, lowering his lips to mine for a brief kiss.

Ultimately shocked, I pulled away, staring up at him I didn't realise that I had accidentally whispered 'wow' until I saw the huge smile sweep across his face. 'Wow? That good?' He was so smug, I couldn't help but giggle. 'It's not that, not saying that it wasn't good or anything in fact it was great, it's just that I've never been kissed before, oh god, did I do it right? Wait, I should ask that, ignore me...' I was off on one of my classic rambled that only tended to happened when I was nervous, and I was definitely nervous. Charles brought his hand to my chin, and pulled me close, 'Lucy' he whispered and I turned to see him looking at me intensely 'shut up' he murmured playfully, and I did as he pulled us back together for only a brief few seconds as we were disturbed by whistles and cheers. I turned, as Charles looked over my head, I saw that he was blushing as he looked over to see Lestrade and, surprisingly, Anderson standing with some other officers whistling and cheering mixed calls of 'Steady on lass', and a little more disturbing 'Go on, give us a show!' His hand still on my chin, he gently pulled my face back round to meet his waiting lips, as his hands fell to my waist, squeezing them as he lifted me up, deepening the kiss, I dropped my crutches onto the ground and wound my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers into his wild, fiery curls as we pulled each other closer. 'What does this make us?' he murmured against my lips, tickling them, I looked up at him pretending to be confused as he lowered me back down to the ground, 'What do you mean?' I knew _exactly_ what he meant, I just wanted him to say it. 'This' his waved his and between out faces, 'what does this mean? Since I've never done this before, I don't know what usually follows.' I'd never though about it like that before, I knew that he was my first kiss and possibly my first boyfriend, but it never even dawned on me that I was his first too. I found it very hard to believe that he could have gone through life without being kissed, certainly with his looks, I thought that girls would have been throwing themselves at him left, right and centre. I had to control a giggle that was dangerously close to slipping out as I grabbed his hands. 'Well it means that we are no longer friends.' I felt a bit bad as he shuffled on his feet, looking down at our hands 'Oh.' I couldn't stop the giggle from escaping now, as I grasped his hand tightly. 'Charles, it means that your no longer my friend, because you're my boyfriend.' he looked up suddenly, his eyes wide and bright 'If you want to be that is.' I added for safety. He said nothing as he picked me up again and crashed his lips against mine, as we became locked in a passionate frenzy. I took this as a 'yes' and melted further into the kiss, parting my lips slightly gasping for air, at the same time I felt Charles teasing my lips open further, as his tongue cautiously entered my mouth, creating a moan to erupt from the back of my throat. Our audience must have been impressed as the whistles and shouts grew louder, cheering us on.

There we stood, completely oblivious to everything around us, including the two figures that had come to stand behind Charles, watching us. 'If the two of you would be so kind as to stop sticking your tongues down each others throats then perhaps we may go to dinner' the deep baritone voice slice through our passionate moans and heavy breathing, and we jumped apart looking guilty, looking up to see Sherlock looking down at us, slightly disgusted but with a faint smile pulled across his tight mouth, my dad, on the other been grinning at us, wiggling his eyebrows subtly. 'Sorry Sherlock. We were busy.' I laughed, trying to lift the tension that had throughout the group. I bent down to retrieve my crutches from the ground, 'So dinner...' I was desperate for someone to say something, to break the uncomfortable awkward silence, so I gave it a go, '...where are we going?' Sherlock suddenly turned on his heels, Charles following, and began to walk to the main road to hail a taxi 'End of Baker Street, there's a good Chinese. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the lower third of the door handle.' Hobbling after them on crutches proved to be difficult, and I would have fallen over more than once if it weren't for my dad supporting me with his arm linked through mine. We weren't going to be catching up to them anytime soon, but it gave me time to reflect on everything that had happened over the last two days. In the past two days me and my dad had moved in with two complete strangers, both who seemed to have a knack for solving crimes and catching killers. Let's not even mention the 'Alex' incident - I found out earlier from Lestrade that Alex no longer worked there, apparently he'd gone to work for his father instead. I'd been on a wide goose chase around London after a taxi cab, nearly breaking my ankle in the process of leaping across buildings, I had been drugged, knocked unconscious and forced to nearly kill myself before briefly torturing a dying serial killer. How many sixteen year olds could say that they've done all that in 48 hours. Also me and Charles, now subconsciously I was worried that we were going far too fast, but it felt right, I was happy and I could see that my dad was happy for me, and he deserved to be. It's been too long, far too long, since I've seen him happy, I gave a small smile as he squeezed my arm, tugging me closer to him 'It's a shame you got over your crutch dad. We could have been crutch buddies!' We were both still laughing as we caught up with Sherlock and Charles, who had managed to flag down a taxi and were already waiting inside for us, with the aid of John, I slid into the taxi next to Charles and resting my leg across his lap, putting my hands behind my head, leaning against the window as the taxi began to pull way from the scene. 'Comfy?' he asked, playfully poking my leg.

'_Very_' I grinned, giving him a cheeky wink. Truth as, I was very, and happy. I was happy with our new-found family. Our completely crazy, dysfunctional family.

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**Wow, slightly awkward ending, but it's the end none the less, but only the end of the first story. It may be a week or two before I upload the second story as I need to write out a plan of what I want to do and double-check it. **

**A huge thanks to every one who read, followed, favourite and reviewed, it means so much, and I hope that the next couple of stories gain a few more followers as I love writing them so so much!**

**-Watson'sGirl-**


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